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No. 641 D. C. and H. Jfturray 30 Cents 

Entered at the Post-Office at New York, as Second-class Mail Matter. Issued Monthly. Subscription Price per Year, 12 Nos., $ 5 . 00 . 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW 


3, N oocl 


BY 

DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY 

AND 

HENRY MURRAY 



NEW YORK 

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS 
March, 1889 


HARPER’S FRANKLIN SQUARE LIBRARY. 


LA TEST 


OENTS. 


346. lone Stewart. A Novel. By E. Lynn Linton.. 

347. Adrian Bright. A Novel. By Mrs. Caddy 

348. A Great Heiress. By It. E. Francillon 

349. Jenifer. A Novel. By Annie Thomas 

350. Annan Water. By Robert Buchanan 

351. An April Day. A Novel. By P. P. Jephson. . . . 

352. Life of Lord Lytton. Parti Autobiography... 

353. Round the Galley Fire. By W. Clark ltuseel I . . . 

354. Life of Lord Lytton. Part II. Biography 

355. The Millionaire. A Novel. By L. J. Jennings . . 

356. Thirlby Hall. By W. E. Norris. Illustrated . . . 

357. The Canon’s Ward. By Janies Payn. IU’d — 
35S. One False, Both Fair. By John B. Harwood... 

359. Hester. A Novel. By Mrs. Oliphant 

360. Little Loo. A Novel. By W. Clark Russell — 

361. Susan Drummond. By Mrs. J. H. Riddell 

362. The New Abelard. By Robert Buchanan 

363. Pretty Miss Neville. By B. M. Croker 

364. Red Riding-Hood. By F. E. M. Notley 

365. History of Our Own Times. By J. McCarthy . . 

366. More Leaves from Queen Victoria’s Journal 

367. The Wizard’s Son. By Mrs. Oliphant 

36S. A Real Queen. By R. E. Francillon... 

369. Mr. Nobody. By Mrs. J. lv. Spender 

870. Virginia Cookery-Book. By Mary S. Smith.. .. 

371. The Pirate, and The Three Cutters. By Marryat. 

372. Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark Russell 

373. An Old Man’s Love. By Anthony Trollope 

374. Good Stories. By Charles Reade. Illustrated. 

375. The Man She Cared For. By F. W. Robinson. . 

376. The Way of the World. By D. C. Murray 

377. Chinese Gordon. By A. Forbes. Illustrated... 

378. “Tommy Upmore.” By R. D. Blnckmore 

379. John Iloldsworth, Chief Mate. By W. C. Russell. 

380. In the West Countrie. By May Crommelin 

3S1. A Fair Country Maid. By E.*F. Byrrne 

382. Godfrey Helstone. By G. M. Craik 

383. My Ducats and My Daughter. A Novel 

384. A Perilous Secret. By Charles Reade 

385. “I Say No.” By Wilkie Collins 

386. Lucia, Hugh, and Another. By Mrs. J. H. Needed. 

387. Venus’s Doves. By Ida Ashworth Taylor 

388. Lancelot Ward, M.P. By George Temple 

389. A Fair Maid. A Novel. By F. W. Robinson ... 

390. Matrimony. A Novel. By W. E. Norris 

391. Georgia Scenes. Illustrated 

392. Curiosities of the Search-Room 

393. 395, 397, 399, 401, 403, 405, 407, 410, 413, 417, 419, 

424, 426, 428, 431, 432, 434, 437, 439, 441, 443, 445. 
Stormonth’s English Dictionary Each 

394. Women are Strange. By F. W. Robinson 

396. The Court of the Tnileries. By Lady Jackson . . 
398. Frank Fairlegh. A Novel. By Frank E. Smedley. 
400. Haco the Dreamer. A Novel. By William Sime. 
402. Between the Heather and the Sea. By M.Linskill 

404. Judith Skakespeare. By William Black 

406. Joy. A Novel. By May Crommelin 

408. The Art of Life and the Life of Art. By Alex. 

F. Oakey. With 40 Illustrations 

409. A North Country Maid. By Mrs. Cameron 

411. Mitchelhurst Place. By Margaret Veley 

412. The Four Georges. By J. M'Carthy. Parti... 

416. Beauty and the Beast. A Novel. By S. Tytler. 
418. The Lover’s Creed. By Mrs. Cashel Iloey 

420. Sir Moses Montefiore. By Lucien Wolf. 

421, 422. Memoirs of Edmund Yates. In Two Parts. 
423. Miss Braddon’s The Mistletoe Bough for 1884. . . 
425. Face to Face. A Novel. By R. E. Francillon.. 
427. By Mead and Stream. A Novel. By C. Gibbon. 

429. Within the Clasp. A Novel. By J. B. Harwood 

430. Philistia. A Novel. By Cecil Power 

433. The Talk of the Town. By James Payn 

435. Madam. A Novel. By Mrs. Oliphant 

436. From Post to Finish. By Hawley Smart. Ill ’d. 
43S. A Good Hater. A Novel. By Frederick Boyle. 

440. Under Which King? By Compton Reade 

442. Tie and Trick. A Novel. By Hawley Smart. . 
444. The Wearing of the Green. A Novel. By Basil. 
440. The Crime of Christraas-Day 


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448. Ichabod. A Portrait. By Bertha Ihomas.. . .. 

449, 450, 451. George Eliot’s Life Each 

452. Great Porter Square. By B. L. Farjeon 

453. Miss Brown. A Novel. By Vernon Lee 

454. A Man of his Word, etc. By W. E. Norris 

455. Some One Else. A Novel. By B. M. Croker. . . 

456. Boulderstone. A Novel. By William Sime. . .. 

457. Wyllard's Weird. A Novel. By M. E. Braddon 

458. Gerald. A Novel. By Eleanor C. Price 

459. Lester’s Secret, A Novel. By Mary Cecil Hay. 

460. The Shadow of a Crime. By Hall Caine 

461. A Week of Passion. By Edward Jenkins 

462. Lazarus in London. By F. W. Robinson 

463. The Russians at the Gates of Herat. With 3 Maps 

and 2S Illustrations. By Charles Marvin 

464. On the Fo’k’sle Head. By W. Clark Russell. . . . 

465. Captain Brand. By II. A. Wise, U.S.N. Ill ’d . . 

466. Russia Under the Tzars. By Stepniak. Ill’d.. 

467. Ishmael. A Novel. By Miss Braddon 

468. Diana of the Crossways. By George Meredith. 

469. Betwixt My Love and Me. A Novel 

470. Victor Hugo and His Time. By A. Barbou. Ill’d 

471. The Professor. By Charlotte Bronte. Illustrated. 

472. 474, 476, and 478. The Revised Version of the 

Old Testament. In Four Parts. Each 

473. Heart’s Delight. Bv Charles Gibbon 

475. Adrian Vidal. By W. E. Norris. Illustrated... 
477. Sylvan Holt’s Daughter. By Holme Lee 

479. Home Influence. By Grace Aguilar 

480. Darien Expedition. By J. T. Headley. Ill’d... 

481. Entangled. A Novel. By E. Fairfax Byrrne. . 

482. Salon of Madame Necker. By D’Haussonville.. 

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454. A Coquette’s Conquest. A Novel. By Basil .. 

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486. The Waters of Hercules. By E. D. Gerard 

487. The Royal Highlanders. By James Grant 

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489. Adam Bede. A Novel. By George Eliot. Ill’d. 

490. In Sunny Lands. By William Drysdale. Ill’d . 

491. The Courtingof Mary Smith. By F. W. Robinson 

492. A Strange Voyage. By W. Clark Russell 

493. Mrs. Hollyer. A Novel. By Georgiaua M. Craik 

494. Babylon. A Novel. By Cecil Power 

495. My Wife’s Niece. A Novel 

496. White Heather. A Novel. By William Black . 

497. The Unforeseen. A Novel. By Alice O’Hanlon 

498. What’s His Offence? A Novel 

499. Miss Braddon’s The Mistletoe Bough for 18S5 . . 
500,. Cradle and Spade. A Novel. By William Sime 

501. The Golden Flood. By Francillon Senior 

502. “Self or Bearer.” A Novel. By Walter Besant 

503. First Person Singular. By D. C. Murray. Ill’d. 

504. Unfairly Won. By Nannie Power O’Donoghue. 

505. England Under Gladstone. By J. H. McCarthy. 

506. Original Comic Operas. Written by W. S. Gilbert 

507. A Country Gentleman. By Mrs. Oliphant 

508,521,521a. War and Peace. By Tolstoi. 3Parts.Each 

509. Rainbow Gold. By David Christie Murray 

510. A Girton Girl. By Mrs. Annie Edwardes 

511. AHouse Divided Againstltself. ByMrs.Oliphant 

512. What’s Mine’s Mine. By George Macdonald. . . 

513. Aunt Parker. By B. L. Farjeon 

514. Until the Day Breaks. By Emily Spender 

515. Griselda. A Novel 

516. Lord Vanecourt’s Daughter. By Mabel Collins. 

517. Captain Dangerous. By G. A. Sala 

518. The Mystery of Allan Grale. By I. F. Mayo ... 

519. Last Days of the Consulate. By M. Fauriel 

520. Major Frank. By A. L. G. Bosboom-Toussaint. 

522. Demos: A Story of English Socialism 

523. Trust Me. A Novel. By Mrs. John K. Spender. 

524. England’s Supremacy. By J. S. Jeans 

525. A Stern Chase. A Novel. " By Mrs. Cashel Iloey. 

526. The Russian Storm-Cloud. By Stepniak 

527. Killed in the Open. A Novel. By Mrs. E.Kennard 

528. Marjorie. A Novel. By K. S. Macqnoid 

529. In the Old Palazzo. A Novel. By Gertrude Forde 

[Continued on Third Page of Cover.] 


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A DANGEROUS CATSPAW 


a IRovcl 


BY 

DAYID CHEISTIE MURRAY 

>1 

AND 

HENRY MURRAY 

* 



NEW YORK 

HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 


1889 



V-V. 


« 





D. CHEISTIE MURK AY’S NOVELS. 


A LIFE’S ATONEMENT. 4to, Paper, 
20 cents. 

A MODEL FATHER. 4to, Paper, 
10 cents. 

AUNT RACHEL. 12mo, Paper, 25 cts. 

BY THE GATE OF THE SEA. 4to 
and 12mo, Paper, 15 cents each. 

CYNIC FORTUNE. 12mo, Paper, 25 
cents. 


FIRST PERSON SINGULAR. Illus- 
trated. 4to, Paper, 25 cents. 
HEARTS. 4to, Paper, 20 cents. 
RAINBOW GOLD. 4to, Paper, 20 cts. 

THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 4to, 
Paper, 20 cents. 

THE WEAKER VESSEL. Illustrated. 
Svo, Paper, 50 cents. 

VAL STRANGE. 4to, Paper, 20 cents. 


Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. 

Any of the above works will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of 
the United States, Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of the price. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


CHAPTER I. 

On the last day of Trinity Term, Reuben Gale, a high- 
ly respectable tool manufacturer, resident in Holborn, 
was tried at the Old Bailey on a charge of burglary and 
assault with intent to do grievous bodily harm. The case 
excited considerable interest, and the court was crowded. 
The air was charged with grit and oil, and the judge, 
the counsel, the jury, the ushers, the warders, and the 
public were one and all in a contradictory condition of 
being weighed down with languor and stimulated by the 
mystery of the case. 

The prisoner was decidedly unlike a burglar to look 
at. It was easy to fancy him behind his counter, rub- 
bing his hands, with ingratiatory welcoming inquiry — 
“ What can I do for you to-day, sir ?” It was not diffi- 
cult to picture him at a vestry meeting or in the bosom 
of his family. But it was positively hard for the mind 
to image the man on a desperate and criminal midnight 
enterprise. He was about the middle height, of spare, 
sinewy build, and was attired in spotless black, a little 
too liberal in cut, and in irreproachable linen. His dark 
hair was getting to be iron gray, and the scrupulously 
trimmed little bit of whisker on each, cheek was almost 
white. He had largish brown eyes, whose chief expres- 


4 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


sion was of a mild and observant alacrity ; and his hair, 
which was carefully brushed and oiled, was cut rather 
close to the head and parted in the middle. He wore 
round his neck a pair of folding glasses, which he did 
not seem to use, and in his right hand he held a large 
white handkerchief, rolled into a ball the size of an 
orange. He mopped his face with this at intervals, but 
gave no other sign of perturbation. For the matter of 
that, scores of people who had no personal interest in 
the .case were mopping their faces in the sweltering heat 
as if their lives depended on it. 

Mr. Wyncott Esden, counsel for the defence, addressed 
the jury in a speech of rare lucidity and persuasiveness. 
He was not loud, as so many Old Bailey barristers are. 
He was calm, argumentative, confidential. He took each 
gentleman of the jury as it were by the button-hole, and 
argued the case with an excellent conviction. His tone 
and manner conveyed a flattery so intimate that the 
jury could not but feel the wiser and the better for it. 
He made his argument as clear as glass, and a child could 
have seen through it from beginning to end with perfect 
comprehension. The barrister’s aspect helped his cause, 
as a prepossessing personal appearance always gives an 
advantage to an orator. He had large and well-cut feat- 
ures and large gray eyes, infinitely sly and friendly. A 
physiognomist would have doubted him at sight, but he 
would have been a hard-hearted physiognomist indeed 
who would have continued long in doubt. Anything 
more frank, engaging, and confident than his manner it 
would be difficult to fancy. He was sure of winning 
you to his view of things — he was positive that he was 
right, and his manner indicated so complete an appre- 
hension of his hearer’s high intelligence that to discredit 
his argument seemed to do one’s self a wrong. He knew — 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


5 


so that cordial and persuasive manner seemed to say — 
no man knew better, how impossible it was to hood- 
wink a person of your intense acuteness. It was of no 
use in the world— his very attitude confessed it — t<f try 
to humbug you ! Come, now, let us have the cards on 
the table. Let us argue the matter. Here are the 
known facts. Here are the conclusions to which your 
trained logical faculty has already carried you. It is 
almost absurd to talk to you in this way, because you 
know these things as well as I do, and probably a little 
better. Still, for the satisfaction of stupid outside people, 
they have to be stated. We thirteen clever fellows have 
made up our minds long ago that the innocent person in 
the dock is the victim of some capricious conspiracy of 
circumstance. We are going to give him a friendly hand 
together, and help him through. 

The court was so crammed that a number of people 
had taken up a tentative position on the platform of the 
bench itself, and these, egged on by listeners less favor- 
ably placed, had encroached more and more, until the 
very functionary who guarded the judge’s left was 
hustled by the more advanced of them. They were 
cleared away at intervals, and came back as unconquer- 
able as flies. 

Any student of character regarding this group upon 
the platform would have been likely to single out one 
face for observation. It was the face of a man in 
early middle age, very calm, resolute, and ready. The 
man, though jovial and at first sight commonplace 
enough, had a look of being unsurprisable, and not to 
be taken at advantage. He wore a scarf and scarf-pin 
in execrable taste, and held aloft in a gloved hand a silk 
hat, polished like a mirror. The head of the pin was a 
reproduction in miniature of a fifty-pound Bank of Eng- 


6 


A DANGEROUS' CATSPAW. 


land note, a quarter the size of a square on a Staunton 
chess-board. The wearer of this shameless ornament 
was Joseph Prickett, a member of the Metropolitan De- 
tective Force, a man fast climbing into fame. He had 
driven into this Old-Bailey corner the respectable citizen 
now under trial, and had the natural anxiety to secure 
his quarry which animates sportsmen of all classes. 

That intimate and persuasive discourse of Mr. Wyn- 
cott Esden’s coming to an end, the judge took up the 
ball, and kept it rolling. He was extremely compli- 
mentary to the defending counsel, and said several 
things which were agreeable to that gentleman’s ears 
and understanding. But his summing-up, though it had 
an elaborate air of impartiality, went dead against the 
prisoner. Prickett, who had gone doubtful, like a con- 
noisseur in wine who is puzzled to class an unknown 
vintage, brightened. The prisoner’s demeanor under- 
went little change, but he ceased to mop his face with 
the rolled-up handkerchief, and, clipping it tightly in 
both hands, leaned his arms upon the rail of the dock, 
and scrutinized the faces of the jury. The measured 
murmur of the judge’s voice increased the somnolent 
influence of the close air and heat, and when the gentle- 
men of the jury were dismissed to their deliberations a 
languid dulness settled upon everybody present. The 
jury withdrew, the judge retired to his own apartment, 
and the prisoner sat down, half hidden behind the dock 
railing. Faint noises reached the hall of justice from 
the street and from adjoining corridors. The dusk be- 
gan to fall. Murmurs of freedom and the outer air 
touched the prisoner’s ear, and once or twice so pricked 
him that he turned to listen. In the gallery there was 
a subdued buzz of voices, and one voice said, “Fifteen 
years,” with an argumentative snappishness. The pris- 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


1 


oner turned to look in the direction of the speaker, and, 
hot as it was, wiped a cold sweat from his forehead and 
his hands. 

An old habitue of the court, a man in seedy black, 
with a white wisp of necktie and a flavor of rum, stood 
near to Prickett. He was respectfully certain of his 
own opinion, hut wanted authority to clinch it. 

“ He’ll get ten years at least, don’t you think, sir ? 
You see,” with the sort of shuddering relish with which 
he took his rum hot of a winter evening, “ it’s burglary 
with violence, Mr. Prickett. It wasn’t that far off 
from being murder. It was quite a meracle the man 
recovered.” 

“ You’ll know all about it in half an hour,” Prickett 
answered. “There’s no saying what a clever counsel 
mayn’t do for a fellow. That chap” — indicating Mr. 
Wyncott Esden with a sideway nod — “is just as deep 
as Garrick. He’s got a tongue as would coax a bird 
from the bough.” 

A movement, almost as he spoke, foretold the return 
of the jury. An officer of the court slid to the door 
leading to the judge’s apartments, and threw it open. 
A minute later his lordship and the jury were seated, 
and the prisoner was on his feet again, searching their 
faces in the gathering darkness. Were the gentlemen 
of the jury ready with their verdict ? asked the clerk. 
Yes. Did they find the prisoner at the bar guilty or 
not guilty? Hot guilty. There was an instant buzz 
and clamor in the court, and the prisoner, opening out 
the tight rolled handkerchief, rubbed his hands hard 
with it, and put it very deliberately in his breast pocket. 
The judge addressed the prisoner pretty much as the 
giant addressed Thor in the Horse story — “ Better come 
no more to Jotunheim.” He had had counsel of singu- 


8 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


lar ability, and the jury had been clement. He was 
free to go. 

Wyncott Esden found himself the centre of a little 
congratulatory crowd, and one or two of the more genial 
of the seniors were almost enthusiastic over him. He 
accepted their compliments with the best grace in the 
world, being neither shy nor inflated, but just hand- 
somely cordial and obliged. 

“ Your bread’s buttered for life, my boy,” said one of 
them, “as old What’s -his -name said to Eldon. All 
thieves who can your fees afford will rely on your 
orations.” 

Sundry of the unoccupied, stowing away their wigs 
and gowns, hummed the refrain of the judge’s song in 
concert, with an improvised alteration — 

“ And one good burglar he’s restored 
To his friends and his relations. ” 

The term was over, and they were already in the 
Long Vacation. There was some animated talk about 
holiday-making, and then, by ones and twos, men filtered 
away, and Wyncott Esden, dropping into the street, 
encountered Mr. Prickett in the roadway. The detec- 
tive touched the brim of his glossy hat with a neatly 
gloved forefinger, and bestowed upon the barrister a 
smile of some complexity. The smile expressed a dep- 
recatory admiration, and a touch of reproof was visible 
in it. 

“ You pulled him off, sir,” said Mr. Prickett, with a 
gentle sorrow in his tone. “ It’s all in the day’s work, 
of course, and it’s a thing as our profession has got to 
look forward to.” Esden laughed, and, laying a familiar 
hand upon the detective’s shoulder, gave him an amiable 
shake, and made as if he would pass on. Mr. Prickett 
turned upon his heel, and accompanied the other’s 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


9 


steps, bending respectfully towards him, sideways. “ I 
wouldn’t have given twopence ha’penny for his chances,” 
he continued, “ and I wouldn’t have accepted a penny 
under a hundred pounds for mine. I looked on that 
hundred pounds as a moral, Mr. Esden.” 

“Well, you know, Prickett,” the barrister answered, 
turning that sly and friendly eye upon the detective 
with an engaging smile, “ it wasn’t my business to earn 
the hundred pounds for you. If it had been — ” 

“Ah!” said Mr. Prickett. “If it had been!” He 
walked on a pace or two farther, still bending respect- 
fully towards his companion. “ A verdict of not guilty,” 
he said, “ establishes a man’s character. It’s no part of 
my business to go about spreading libels, and, maybe, 
getting hauled up for ’em. I don’t say, mind you, Mr. 
Esden, as Reuben isn’t as innocent as a daisy. But I 
shouldn’t call anybody a fool as thought him guilty, 
and it’s my opinion that there isn’t a luckier man afoot 
this minute. He’s got a lot to thank you for, Mr. Esden, 
if you’ll allow me to say as much.” 

“We must all do our duty, Prickett,” returned Esden, 
twinkling at him in self -applauding enjoyment. “We 
must all do our duty in the varying positions to which 
it pleases Providence to call us.” 

The officer smiled sadly and admiringly, fell back a 
step, touched the brim of the glossy hat again, and said, 
“ Good-day, sir.” 

Esden walked leisurely down Ludgate Hill and along 
Fleet Street towards his chambers ip the Temple. After 
the gloom of the court the light of the August evening 
looked garish, and the street traffic boomed and thun- 
dered in contrast with his recent waiting amid the close 
murmurs of the attending crowd. He had started ra- 
diant, smiling, and triumphant, but as he walked on he 


10 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


began to droop, and, falling more and more into a de- 
jected mood, he walked into the silences of the Temple 
with an air altogether despondent. He climbed the 
monotonous staircase in one of the lofty new houses in 
Elm Court, until he reached the top, and then, admitting 
himself, banged the door behind him with some show 
of peevishness. Behind the small glass shutter of the 
letter-box he saw half a dozen missives awaiting him, and 
taking them up he walked into his sitting-room, and 
there, with his hat pushed to the back of his head, and 
his walking-stick held under his arm, he opened them, 
and with a mere glance at the contents of each he threw 
them on the table. Each letter enclosed an account al- 
ready rendered, and without exception his correspond- 
ents expressed surprise at his neglect of earlier applica- 
tions. When he had looked at them all he gathered 
them up, and threw them in a little pile into the grate, 
and there set fire to them. Then, with an air of fatigued 
disgust, he strolled into his bedroom, and found a cash- 
box, which, being investigated, yielded a check-book with 
but two leaves left in it, and a solitary bank-note for 
five pounds. He emptied his pockets, and dribbled their 
contents about the dressing-table. 

“ Thirty-five at the bank,” he said, aloud, “ and eleven 
in hand. That’s a devilish pretty prospect for the Long 
Vacation !” 

He threw the check-book back into the empty box, 
and, crumpling the note, put it in his pocket. Then, 
gathering up his loose gold and silver, he left the rooms, 
and went drooping down the interminable stairs in a 
sort of half-humorous dejected savagery of mood. He 
came out upon Fleet Street, under the shadow of the 
Gryphon, and, after lingering indeterminately for a min- 
ute, crossed the street briskly, and entered the Cock 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


11 


Tavern. There, ensconcing himself in an unoccupied 
box, he called for a chop and a modest pint of Beaune, 
and sat turning over a copy of that evening’s paper as 
he waited. His simple meal being brought to him, he 
fell to rather languidly, and something catching his at- 
tention in the columns of the journal, he folded it con- 
veniently, propped the paper Against the cruet-stand, 
and read and ate together. 

Another customer entered the box and sat down fac- 
ing him. The personage was attired in scrupulous 
black, a thought too large, and wore irreproachable 
linen. He carried a white handkerchief crumpled into 
a ball of about the size of an orange, and dabbed his 
forehead with it at brief intervals. When the waiter 
came to learn his desires, the new client spoke in a way 
which was at once hesitating and confidential, as if he 
were shy, and his desire for an under-done steak and a 
pint of bitter ale were somehow in the nature of a 
secret. The waiter moved off with the order, and the 
man in black, for the first time regarding his vis-a-vis, 
started, and looked at him intently, moving his head 
from side to side to command new points of view. He 
was obviously surprised, undecided as to his neighbor’s 
identity, and anxious to be sure of it. His uncertainty 
lasted until the waiter had brought his steak and flitted 
away again. Then the man in black put out a hand 
towards the cruet, and said, “ I beg your pardon, sir.” 

Esden, looking up, recognized him at a glance, and 
was recognized in turn. There was no mistaking the 
fact of recognition on either side, but the barrister, after 
a cool and leisurely gaze, took up his newspaper, propped 
it against his wine-bottle, and went on eating and read- 
ing. The personage whose character had been so re- 
cently cleared by a dozen of his peers, rolled his hand- 


12 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


kerchief between his palms, and looked uncomfortable. 
In a little while he recovered himself, and attacked his 
steak with vigor and enjoyment. He made such good 
progress that he had finished his meal and paid for it 
before the earlier arrival. 

When the barrister paid in turn and rose to go, with 
no renewed sign of recognition, Beuben Gale rose also. 
Esden took down his hat and sauntered into the street, 
and the man followed him at a distance of half a score 
yards. The barrister turned into Chancery Lane, and 
Gale, after one or two irresolute quickenings of his pace, 
made up to him, hat in hand. 

“ I believe, sir,” he said, with a humble shyness, “ that 
I have the honor of addressing Mr. Wyncott Esden.” 

Esden, from his superior height, looked coldly down 
across his shoulder. 

“Well,” he demanded, in a voice of curt disdain. 

“ I thought I couldn’t be mistaken,” said Gale, still 
keeping pace with him, hat in hand. His voice had an 
embarrassed, unobtrusive wheeze in it. The man certainly 
spoke and looked uncommonly unlike a desperate crim- 
inal. “ I really don’t know, sir, how to thank you for 
the admirable way — ” A passenger walking at a swift- 
er pace than they went by, and Gale paused until he 
thought him out of hearing. “ The real beautiful way, 
sir,” he said then, “ you conducted my defence.” 

“That’s all right,” said Esden, looking down on him 
with the same careless, scornful glance, and speaking in 
the same disdainful tone. 

“ I am sure,” the man went on, “ there’s hardly anoth- 
er gentleman at the bar who could have done for me, 
sir, what you done this afternoon. The case looked very 
black against me, sir. I don’t think, sir, that an innocent 
man ever had such a squeeze before.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


13 


“ Yery good,” said Esden, quickening his step. 

The man clung to him. 

“ If it lays in my power,” he said, in his apologetic, 
wheezing way, “ anyhow to repay you, sir, it would be a 
weight off of my mind.” 

“ You must understand,” said Esden, stopping short, 
and looking down upon him, “ that it is one thing to de- 
fend a gentleman of your profession, and another to be 
seen walking with him in the streets. I am constrained 
to wish you a very good evening, Mr. Gale.” 

“ Why, that’s only fit and proper, sir,” Mr. Gale re- 
sponded, still clinging to him as he pursued his way. 
“ I quite reco’nize the gulf which rears itself between 
us, but a man must follow the dictation of his ’art, sir. 
You done me such a turn this afternoon, sir, as no man 
ever done before. * Excuse me, sir — I should have said 
no gentleman.” 

“My good friend,” Esden answered, a little mollified 
by the flattery of the man’s gratitude, but scornful still, 
“ I did my duty professionally, and was paid for it.” 

“ Ah, sir,” said Mr. Gale, accepting with evident eager- 
ness this first faint sign of yielding on the other’s part, 
“ how many gentlemen could ha’ done what you done, 
with the best will in the world ? Of course a gentleman 
desires — quite natural — to do his duty, sir, because it 
stands to reason that’s how he makes his name 'and 
fame and fortune, sir. But it’s knowing how to do it, 
sir. That’s where it is. * P’raps you might’ t care to 
know, sir, how it came about as I instructed my solicitor 
to try for nobody but Mr. Wyncott Esden '? ‘ That,’ I 
says, sir, to my solicitor, ‘is the gentleman for my money. 
I happened to step into the Old Bailey, as near twelve 
months ago as might be, just to pass away a hour, and I 
heard Mr. Esden,’ I says to my solicitor, ‘defending a 


14 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


person of the name of Hatchett, on suspicion of jewelry. 
Mr. Esden didn’t get him off , 5 I says, ‘ hut there ! if it 
had laid in the power of mortal gentleman to do it,’ I 
says, ‘ he would ha’ done it. Mr. Esden was that quiet, 
that sure and easy. He had that way with the jury. 
He put ’em in doubt for an hour and a half’ — that’s 
what I told my solicitor — ‘ and if anybody else had been 
there, they’d ha’ said guilty on the evidence without so 
much as leaving the box.’ ” 

How Esden was a remarkably clever fellow, but, like 
many clever fellows who have gone before him, he was 
inordinately fond of praise. He was intimately persuad- 
ed that Mr. Gale was an arrant rascal, but even a bar- 
rister cannot exert himself in behalf of a fellow-creature 
without taking at least a partisan interest in him ; and 
to find the man so felicitating himsdf upon his choice 
of a defender was like milk and honey. 

The actual day was falling towards darkness now, as 
its grimy imitation had fallen into darkness in the Old 
Bailey hours before. It was extremely improbable that 
any friend or acquaintance would see him in conversa- 
tion with his late client, and, even if he were seen, it 
would not be disagreeable to tell how the fellow clung 
to him and resisted all snubs in the fulness of his grati- 
tude. 

“ So you said to yourself,” he answered, unbending, 
and beginning to find a humorous interest in the man, 
“ ‘ when it comes to my turn*fco get into a tight corner, 
there is the counsel for my money V ” 

“Why, sir,” responded Mr. Gale, growing more at 
ease, but still conserving the apologetic manner, “it 
never entered my head at that time of day that such a 
thing could happen to me.” 

“ Of course not,” Esden answered. “ It’s odd, though, 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


15 


that Mr. Prickett should have entertained his unjust sus- 
picions for the past five years.” 

“ Odd, sir !” cried Gale, obsequiously. “ Excuse me, 
sir, but ‘odd’ is not the word for it. Bloodthirsty is 
the word, sir.” 

Esden had slackened his pace to a mere lounge when 
once he had become willing that the man should talk to 
him. They were nearing Holborn now, and he halted 
outright. 

“ I am prodigiously obliged to you, Mr. Gale,” he said, 
with a smooth irony, “ for the expression of your satis- 
faction with my conduct of a case which I admit was 
difficult and delicate. I think it probable that on the 
next occasion my services may be of less value to you, 
though they are always at your disposal. We are now 
on the edge of the Long Vacation, and I cannot reason- 
ably hope to meet you for three months to come. Once 
more, I wish you a very good evening.” 

“ I beg your pardon, sir,” Gale answered. “ A man 
in my position can’t talk to a gentleman. He can’t say 
proper what he wants to say. But if you’d do me the 
pleasure, sir, to walk into my business establishment — 
it’s close at hand, sir — I should like to make a proposi- 
tion of a business nature.” 

He had resumed his hat some time before, and now 
stood rubbing his hands in an extremity of embarrassment. 

“ You would like to make to me,” said Esden, slowly, 
in a tone of concentratedosurprise, “a proposition of a 
business character?” 

“I should take it as a favor if you’d listen to it, 
sir. If you’ll do me the honor to walk into my estab- 
lishment — ” 

“ Dit Varaignee d la mouche ,” said Esden, with a 
humorous survey of his own proportions and those of 


16 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


his companion. “ That would be a new form of grati- 
tude,” he added, inwardly. 

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Mr. Gale, “I didn’t 
catch your observation, sir. If you will do me the 
honor to come in, sir, I should take it as a real favor.” 

“My good fellow,” replied the barrister, “you can 
say here and now anything you have to say.” 

“Well, to tell the truth, sir,” Gale responded, “ that’s 
just what I can’t do. But if you’ll do me the goodness 
only just to step round the corner, it won’t take ten 
words, nor one minute, and I think I can make it worth 
your while.” 

Esden stared at him in the dusk with more and more 
amazement. 

“ This is positively exasperating,” he told himself. “ I 
have never been so curious in my life. Lead the way,” 
he said, aloud. 

“ Thank you, sir,” responded Mr. Gale. “ I am very 
much obliged to you.” 

Esden, following him, clipped his walking-stick by the 
middle, and cautiously appreciated its weight. His com- 
panion, moving quickly on, drew a bunch of keys from 
his trouser pocket, and jingled it in his hand as he walked. 
At the end of a hundred yards, or thereabouts, he paused 
before a sombre, low-browed little shop, the door of which 
he unlocked with the brisk dexterity of custom. The 
place gaped black beyond the opened doorway, and the 
tradesman, moving to one side, invited his companion by 
a gesture. 

“ After you,” said Esden, still balancing his stick in 
his right hand. 

“ Very good, sir,” Gale answered, and, entering, struck 
a light and lit a gas jet, which shrieked and sputtered as 
he applied the match. Esden, following, found himself 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


17 


in an atmosphere the smell of which was compounded 
of the odors of brown paper, oil, and dry rot in wood. 
From floor to ceiling on three sides were shelves, as 
thickly packed as they could hold with symmetrical 
brown-paper packets, all neatly tied and ticketed, and all 
having a certain aspect of great weight. In a big pair 
of scales upon the counter five or six pounds of heavy 
nails had made the balance kick the beam upon the 
other side, and the empty scale hung entangled in its 
chain. Ranged everywhere about the floor and counter 
in precise order were crowbars of varying sizes, plaster- 
er’s chisels, hammers, saws, centre-bits — all the parapher- 
nalia of a tool-dealer’s shop. In one corner behind the 
counter a green painted safe stood wedged into the wall 
among the other ponderables. 

Gale closed the door, the barrister lounging against 
the counter, and watching him with a cool and wary 
eye, not knowing how to guess what might befall, and 
wondering a little to find himself alone in such com- 
pany. His companion, without so much as a glance at 
him, searched his bundle of keys, and, passing round the 
counter, opened the green-painted safe. From this he 
drew a cash-box, which he set upon the counter. Then, 
with an aspect increasingly furtive and embarrassed, he 
unlocked the cash-box in its turn, and counted from it 
five soiled bank-notes, each for ten pounds. 

“ I don’t know how to put it, sir,” he said, looking 
up, “ but if a common man’s gratitude might take that 
form, sir — ” and he held out the notes, with a dogged 
thumb clamped down upon them. 

“Well, now, upon my word,” said Esden, “ you’re 
not a bad sort of fellow after all. Upon my word, for 
a gentleman in your walk of life you are a very unusu- 
ally decent sort of fellow.” 

2 


18 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“ Thank you, sir,” said Gale, still holding out the 
notes. “ I was afraid you might find it offensive, so to 
speak.” 

“ Well, you know,” the barrister answered, pushing a 
quantity of heavy stuff on one side to make room for 
his elbows, and lounging on the counter, “ it is offen- 
sive, and it isn’t. Put up the notes, if you please. Put 
them up at once,” he added, sharply, seeing that Gale 
stared at him with a look of sudden disappointment, and 
still held the money out towards him. 

“ I thought you were going to take them, sir,” said Gale. 

“ Did you, by God ?” asked Esden, wrathfully. He 
would have had no need to be angry, and he knew this 
perfectly well, if it had not been for the temptation 
which assailed him. It was an impossible thing to do, 
but nobody could ever hear of it, and he was so ruin- 
ously hard up. 

“ I beg your pardon, sir,” said Gale, withdrawing the 
notes at once ; “ I didn’t know, sir, how a gentleman 
might feel.” 

Esden watched the notes back to their place in the 
safe with a feeling of reluctance. He half regretted 
that he had spoken so decisively. After all, why should 
he have been angry? Why should he have been such 
an ass as to throw fifty pounds away ? 

Gale made a pretence of arranging things upon the 
counter. The single gas jet shrieked noisily overhead, 
and he turned it down a little, and looked at Esden, 
who was lowering somewhat, with his arms upon the 
counter. 

“ I really must ask you, sir,” said the tool-maker, 
“ not to think I asked you here to put an insult on you. 
I’ve heard tell of the thing being done before, and looked 
upon quite otherwise.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


19 


“ I dare say,” Esden answered, with rather a grand 
air; “ there are people of all sorts.” Gale was per- 
turbed in the presence of this noble gentleman, and ar- 
ranged and rearranged a handful of tools upon the 
counter. “You’re a better sort of fellow than I fan- 
cied,” the barrister resumed, in a patronizing tone. 
“ I was annoyed at first, I admit, but I can see that 
you meant well, and were really grateful for my ser- 
vices.” 

“ I am indeed, sir,” said Gale, obsequiously. 

“ Well, come, now,” said Esden, with a sudden bright- 
ness, taking an easier posture, “ let me test this grati- 
tude of yours.” 

“With all my heart, sir.” 

“ Good,” said Esden, with the sly, friendly, persuasive 
smile in full play again. “ You do know a little bit 
about that business, don’t you, Mr. Gale ? Knowledge 
is power, you know. I am a barrister in criminal prac- 
tice, and it might come in handy one of these days if I 
only knew as much as you could tell me.” 

The tool-maker assumed an air of rectitude perhaps 
too conscious. 

“ The very honestest tradesman in my line, sir,” he 
replied, “ must run the risk of meeting very dicky peo- 
ple now and then, and doing business with them.” 

“Naturally,” said Esden, smiling still. “Now tell 
me what an honest tradesman in your line may know.” 
Mr. Gale hesitated. “About burgling tools, for in- 
stance.” 

“ In a proper way of speaking, sir,” the honest trades- 
man answered, “ there’s no such thing as burgling tools. 
In another way of speaking, there’s hardly what you 
might call a tool in the shop as might not be used by a 
burglar in his way of business. There’s the drill and 


20 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


the cold chisel, and the crowbar, from a lord mayor 
down to a pocket jemmy. All these are used in honest 
labor every day of the year. If a man’s a burglar and 
knows his trade and can afford it, he’ll have ’em a bit 
finer than a common tradesman will.” 

(C Out of professional pride ?” asked the barrister. 

“ Why, yes, sir, a little bit of that, sometimes, but gen- 
erally to be more useful. Of course, it’s more particular 
than common work. It’s got to be done quick. It’s 
got to be done quiet. For instance, a man comes to me 
to buy a hammer — say as it’s a short-handled hammer, 
with a heavy head, like this — a kind of tool that’s used 
in a round dozen of trades. If he wants it for night- 
work he gets it covered thick with leather, and he has 
the top of his cold chisel covered the same way, and be- 
fore he starts on the job he soaks the leather two or 
three hours in water, so as there’s hardly any sound 
when he uses ’em. Then sometimes they have their 
iron tools all coated with leather, so as not to jingle 
when they carry ’em about ; and if the crowbars are too 
long to be got into a decent-sized carpet-bag, they has 
’em made in len’ths, to screw together, the joints fit- 
ting air-tight, and the screw very long. Why,” he ex- 
claimed, after a momentary pause, with an air of sudden 
remembrance, “ I’ve got the very article on the prem- 
ises at this minute, if you don’t mind waiting alone for 
a second or two while I find it.” 

He left the shop, and presently returned, bearing in 
his hand a small leather-covered crowbar, the exposed 
ends of which — the one split and curved like the nail- 
drawer of an ordinary hammer, and the other flat and 
with an almost razor-like edge — shone in the gaslight 
like polished silver. 

“ It’s rather curious how I come to have such a thing 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


21 


in my possession.” There was a momentary gleam of 
obsequious humor in Mr. Gale’s look as he spoke the 
last words. “ I’ll tell you. One day, six months ago it 
was, sir, or it might perhaps ha’ been seven, a well- 
dressed, respectable gent come into this very shop, and 
give me an order for a set of tools. ‘ I want ’em,’ he 
says, ‘ of the very best steel, and made according to 
these directions,’ which he give me, standing on the 
identical spot as you’re standing on at this minute— a 
complete set of jemmies, of all sizes, and two or three 
other articles. He was very free and chatty, and he 
told me how he was very fond of turning and carpenter’s 
work. 6 It’s took me three years to furnish my house,’ 
he says, 4 and there isn’t a single article of furniture in 
it, from the attics to the basement, as isn’t my own 
handiwork.’ Well, of course, that kind of thing is com- 
mon enough, sir, as you know. There’s lots of gents as 
finds time hang heavy, and passes it in that way. It 
puzzled me a bit what he could want all the jemmies 
for, and specially why he wanted ’em all covered with 
leather, like this one. But it was no affair of mine, and 
I took the order, and he give me two pounds on ac- 
count, quite the gentleman in all ways, sir, and he went 
away, and that’s the last I ever heard of him from that 
day to this.” 

“ He never came for the tools ?” asked Esden. 

“ Never, sir. This is one of ’em. Now, if there is 
such a thing as a burgling tool in London, that’s the 
article. And it’s as good a bit of work as I ever laid a 
hammer on. If it wasn’t for the leather coating, I’d 
defy anybody, even you, sir, to find the join. Look 
here,, sir.” With the quick dexterity of a practised me- 
chanic he unscrewed the tool so rapidly that it seemed 
almost to fall into two pieces in his hands. “ Look at 


22 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


that, sir,” he said, indicating the screw ; “ it fits like 
watchwork, and, thin as it is, there isn’t a door in all 
London that wouldn’t fly like the lid of a match-box if 
you could find a crack big enough to get the edge of the 
hook into it.” 

Mr. Gale had become a little excited in admiration of, 
his own handiwork ; and his fingers, which were amaz- 
ingly knotty and muscular to belong to so slight a man, 
closed on the crowbar with a nervous grip as he illus- 
trated the action of the tool. In the very act he caught 
Esden’s slyly twinkling smile, and stopped in a momen- 
tary discomfiture. 

“ Rather an ugly thing, isn’t it, for a suspected burglar 
to have about his premises?” asked Esden. 

“ Why, yes, sir,” said Gale, with a rather overdone 
candor. “ A very ugly thing. And the curious part of 
it is, sir, that though the police searched the premises 
on my arrest, and have been here lots of times since, 
they didn’t find ’em. Good Lord ! If they had !” The 
sudden wince he gave at the fancy was real enough, and 
he dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief again. 
“ Providence perfects the innocent, sir. They was lying 
where anybody might ha’ found ’em, among the other 
stock, and yet they missed ’em. It was the finger of 
Providence. That’s what I call it, Mr. Esden, sir. It 
was the finger of Providence.” 

Esden, still twinkling, turned the two halves of the 
tool over and over in his hands, examining them with 
obvious interest, and then screwed them together. 

“ Yes,” he said, “ it’s a pretty bit of workmanship.” 

“ I’ve got an idea, Mr. Esden,” said Gale, leaning, with 
a sudden persuasive smile, across the counter. “ You 
wouldn’t accept the money — you’ll excuse me, sir, for 
even mentioning that little mistake of mine again, sir, 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


23 


I’m sure. Will you take that, sir, as a suvveneer of a 
grateful client, sir ?” 

“ This ?” asked Esden, holding out the tool in a comic 
amazement. 

“ Why not, sir ? I wouldn’t offer it to anybody as 
might turn up, sir. But in the hands of a gentleman like 
you — and it’s worth nothing — nothing, that is, to speak 
of, so as you needn’t be ashamed to accept it from a 
poor man as owes you a very great obligation, sir.” 

“ Why, what should I do with such a thing as this ?” 
asked Esden. 

“ Why, of course, sir, it’s no use to you. But it’s in- 
teresting, sir — interesting from association, as one may 
say. And it’s a good bit of stuff, and capital workman- 
ship, if a man may say so much about a thing as ‘he’s 
made himself. Take it, Mr. Esden, sir. It’s no use to 
me ; in fact, it’s dangerous, and it might be years before 
I found a customer as wanted such a thing. You can 
carry it quite easy in your breast pocket, so.” He un- 
screwed it, and held the pieces out towards the barrister. 
“ Pray take it, sir, as a suvveneer.” 

“ Well, after all, why not ?” said Esden, with a laugh. 


CHAPTER II. 

At high noon on the following day, Esden, sitting 
shirt-sleeved in his apartments, looked his own personal 
circumstances discontentedly in the face. When things 
went uncomfortably with him it was his habit to decline 
to look at them. He was a young man who liked to see 
the bright side ©f things, and he had no love for shad- 
ows. The prospect now before him was almost alto- 


24 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


gether dark, and he grew easily weary of the mental 
landscape. He had to look at it, and he continued to 
look until his gorge rose. 

“ I shall go melancholy mad if I don’t get out of 
this,” he said, aloud. “ I must go somewhere and talk 
to somebody.” 

He rose, and sauntered dispiritedly into his bedroom, 
taking up a clothes-brush by the way, and reaching down 
from its peg the coat he had worn on the previous evening 
began idly to brush at it, pausing twice or thrice in the 
course of that simple operation to fall into a despondent 
day-dream. When he awoke from the last of these ex- 
cursions the clothes-brush struck upon something hard, 
and remembering Mr. Gale’s curious souvenir, he drew 
the ‘house-breaking implement from the pocket in which 
he had placed it, and began to turn it over and to screw 
together the pieces of which it was composed. Any- 
thing is good enough for an idle and unhappy man to 
think about, and Esden was pleased to divert his thoughts 
even by such a trifle as this. 

* “ I don’t see where the magic of it comes in,” he said. 

“ That fellow declared that any door would fly before it 
if one could only get the edge in. The lever’s a mighty 
power, no doubt, but I fancy that a thing of this size 
would want a lot of muscle behind it.” 

He looked about him to see if there were anything in 
the chamber upon which he could test the force of the 
implement, and decided that he would try its capacities 
upon one of the bedroom doors. To that end he went 
back to the sitting-room, and closed and locked the door ; 
then inserting the claw of the little crowbar in the cleft 
between door and door-jamb near the lock, he gave a tug, 
proportioned, as he fancied, to the necessities of the case. 
For a moment or two he hardly knew how to be surprised 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


25 


at the result, for the door, flying open with a swift-rend- 
ing sound, struck him smartly on the side of the head, 
and put all inquiry into the forces of the lever out of 
mind. 

“ Scotch engineering,” he said, rubbing the side of his 
head with a rueful grin. “ Main strength and foolish- 
ness. I might as well have chucked a sovereign out of 
window. It will take that at least to repair the damage. 
Hang Mr. Gale, and confound his souvenir.” 

He threw the implement away at haphazard, and, fall- 
ing in a straight line on the pillow of the bed at the very 
edge of the neatly folded coverlid, it rolled over and lay 
hidden. 

“ There’s a demoniac adroitness about that tool,” said 
Esden, still rubbing at the injured spot. “ It hides itself 
as if it knew its work was over, and that it has no busi- 
ness to be seen.” 

With an occasional glance at the shattered lock, and 
here and there an exclamation of impatience at his own 
clumsiness and folly, he proceeded to attire himself for 
the streets. He winced a little under the application of 
his hair-brushes, and broke into profane sayings when 
he discovered that his hat was considerably too small to 
be conveniently worn. 

<6 One can’t go out like this,” he said, pettishly, as he 
surveyed himself in the mirror, “ with one’s hat perched 
on one ear, like a Jew shopboy’s on a holiday. It’s lucky 
the bruise is under the hair. I’m a philosopher to find 
anything lucky under the circumstances, though I sup- 
pose I ought to be thankful for having got off without 
a black eye.” 

While he grumbled thus to himself, exchanging, with 
no sense of gratitude, the contemplation of serious 
troubles for that of small ones, there came a knock at 


26 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


his outer door, and he strode with a tragic mien to an- 
swer it. No sooner had he opened the door and set eyes 
upon the man who stood beyond it than he brightened 
into instant good-humor, and executed a hearty shake- 
hands. The arrival was dressed like a cleric, but apart 
from his dress he wore an air entirely unclerical. He 
was about six feet in height, broad-shouldered, deep 
chested, and as well set up as if newly dismissed from 
the drill yard. He had a most wholesome red-and- white 
complexion, and a big, dragoon -looking mustache, so 
that, except for a certain suggestion of brains he carried, 
he might have passed for a Guardsman in disguise. He 
was one of those men who preserve a physical condition 
so perfect that even in the hottest summer weather in 
London they contrive always to look cool and clean. 
Such people convey to their very clothing a sense of 
their own wholesomeness. Their linen is crisper than 
that of people less favored, their boots acquire less dust, 
and their clothes take fewer wrinkles. 

“ Come in, Arnold, old chap !” cried Esden. “ I ? m glad 
to see you. I was just thinking of turning into the 
Strand and getting an iced-fruit drink; but, upon my 
soul, you’re such an excellent substitute for it that I 
don’t feel thirsty any longer.” 

The dragoon-like cleric came in laughing, and closed 
the door behind him with a motion of his foot. 

“ What’s the matter with you ?” asked Esden. “ Y ou’d 
better go into the next room and get a wash. You look 
as if your left ear had been black-leaded.” 

The clergyman laughed and even blushed a little. 

“ Soap and water will make no impression on that for 
a day or two,” he said. “ That, as a point of fact ” — blush- 
ing a little more pronouncedly — “ is a remembrance of 
one of my parishioners.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


27 


“ You don’t mean to say that they hammer the church 
down there ?” asked Esden. 

“My dear Wyncott, there are people in Limehouse 
who would hammer anything hammerable from the 
pope downwards.” 

“ Why don’t you clear out of that,” asked Esden, “ and 
take a respectable living $ You’ve got plenty of chances.” 

“ Well, I don’t know,” said the parson. “ The people 
interest me. We’re getting to like each other.” 

“ Ecce signum ,” said the barrister, indicating the 
bruised ear. 

“ My dear fellow,” returned the other, “ you mayn’t 
believe it, but you never said a truer word than that in 
your life. Ecce signum! I never made so small air 
effort and secured such results by it.” 

“Expound,” said the barrister, thrusting out a lazy 
foot and pushing a chair against the damaged door. 

“ One Sunday night, after service,” said the cleric, still 
blushing, “ a woman came to me at the Mission House — 
an excellent person — and complained that William had 
got upon the burst again. How William had been go- 
ing pretty squarely for a good five months, and he and I 
had got to be on capital terms. I’ll tell you the whole 
thing exactly as it happened. I was fortunate enough 
to find William at a moment of repentance five months 
back, when he had spent his last twopence, and was de- 
serted by his pals. I had a good talk with him, stood 
him a dinner and a drink, and brought him to see the 
error of his ways. He promised to drink no more for a 
month — a month doesn’t look very terrible, and I like to 
make things look easy — and he stuck to his promise like 
a brick. At the end of the month I got him to sign again. 
At the end of that time he got hankering after the porter- 
pots of the Burdett Road, and all I could do was to get 


28 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


him to promise that he would tell me faithfully whenever 
I met him what he had spent on liquor since I had seen 
him last. I have found that work with some of them. 
Those chaps, you must understand, are very clumsy at 
lying. They’re not like people of our own class, who 
have studied all their life long to do it gracefully. It is 
not so much, perhaps, that they want the will, as that 
they lack the practice. William wouldn’t lie after the 
first or second time, because he found out, sympatheti- 
cally, that I knew when he was at it. I haunted him 
rather badly, and he took umbrage and kept away, so 
that I wasn’t surprised on Sunday when the excellent 
Mrs. Perkins turned up and told me that William hadn’t 
appeared on the previous day with his week’s money. 
As soon as I could get free I went after him, drew half 
a dozen places blank, and finally unearthed him in the 
Turk’s Head. 

44 4 How, William,’ said I, 4 this is against the contract.’ 
William refused to touch the question, and became per- 
sonally offensive. I told him that wasn’t just or manly. 
4 You know,’ said 1, 4 that a clergyman can’t use bad lan- 
guage. Therefore, William, it is cowardly to use bad 
language to a clergyman, just as it’s cowardly to use a 
stick or a knife against a man who has only his hands to 
defend himself.’ 4 Oh, if it comes to that,’ said William, 
4 put ’em up.’ How, as a matter of fact,” pursued this 
unusual cleric, laughing in an embarrassed manner at 
his host, 44 that is an exercise which I have never been 
averse to. The proposal did not logically spring from 
anything that I had said, but Mr. Perkins seemed to think 
it did, and his companions shared his view. I tried to 
persuade my strayed lamb to go back to the fold with a 
whole skin, but this well-meant effort was derided by 
William and the crowd as an evidence of pusillanimity. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


29 


Until then, though I’d been on the edge of it a score of 
times, more or less, I had never felt it to be my duty as 
a Christian clergyman to give any of my parishioners a 
hiding. I said as much to William. I pointed out to 
him gently, though I was afraid it might look like brag- 
ging, that I was one of Angelo’s pet pupils, and that I 
could probably walk round him like a cooper round a 
cask, and hit him where I wanted. The long and short 
of the story is, that what between William’s folly and 
my own mismanagement I was compelled to retire with 
him to a neighboring court, or to lose whatever hold I 
was beginning to get upon those fellows. So I chose 
what seemed the less of the two evils, and took on more 
than I knew of. For William, though a little stale,' 
turned out to be a past master in the art, and in the 
course of some five minutes got to be on terms of greater 
intimacy with me than anybody has been since I had 
that turn-up at Hampton Court with the nigger with 
the banjo.” 

“ I remember the nigger with the banjo,” said Esden. 
“ He was a very useful man.” 

“ Mr. Perkins,” pursued the cleric, “ was about as good, 
but he suffered from being out of form.” 

“ So,” said Esden, “ you pensioned his widow, like 
Codlingsby, and settled sixpence a year apiece on the 
infant progeny ?” 

“ Ho,” said the embarrassed clergyman. “ But I gained 
the good - will of the whole assemblage. Mr. Perkins 
admitted that he had had enough, and I extracted a 
promise from him that if ever he broke out again he 
would stand up and take a similar dose. He will be so 
little hungry for it that I think the prospect may help 
to keep him straight. You’d hardly believe,” he added, 
“ what a hero I’ve been since the news of this business 


30 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


got abroad. All I have to do now is just to keep the 
hold I’ve got upon the men I really want to touch. As 
for the feeble respectable folk, they think me a child of 
Satan, and that’s natural enough, of course. But then 
wherever was there a man, in the whole history of the 
world, who was worth his salt, and cared about the ver- 
dict of respectable people ?” 

“It’s a pity,” said Esden, laughing, “that the man 
didn’t land on the eye instead of the ear. A parson with 
a black eye would be quite a refreshing spectacle.” 

“ Hillo !” cried the clergyman, suddenly perceiving the 
shattered lock upon the bedroom door. “ What’s this % 
Burglary ?” 

“ A bit of amateur work,” said Esden. “ The result 
of a presentation from a client of mine. I defended a 
fellow yesterday, and got him off with flying colors. He 
actually dined at the same table with me last night at 
the Cock, and he was abominably grateful. He wanted 
to give me— wait a minute. There’s the postman.” 

A little handful of letters fell noisily into the box be- 
hind the outer door, and Esden made a dash from the 
room and returned with them. 

“ Excuse me, Arnold,” he said, “ I’m expecting some- 
thing of importance. I must look at these.” 

He opened the letters and glanced rapidly over them, 
with muttered exclamations of discontent, until he came 
to one which seemed to give him serious disquiet. He 
walked with this to the window, and, propping himself 
against the wall in the recess, appeared to read it more 
than once from beginning to end. His face was troubled, 
and he clawed his hair with a gesture of perplexity. 

“J. P.’s handwriting, isn’t it?” said the clergyman, 
pushing the envelope across the table. “Nothing the 
matter with him, I hope ?” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


31 


“Suffering from my own complaint,” said Esden. 
“ He’s hard up. Wants to know if I can’t let him have 
some money.” 

“ You haven’t been borrowing from J. P., I hope,” 
said the other. 

“ Borrowing from J. P. ?” cried Esden, in a voice of 
unexpected irritation. “ Who, in the name of wonder, 
would think of borrowing from J. P. ? He’s as poor as 
a church mouse, and has half a dozen children.” 

|X He folded the letter, and thrust it into his waistcoat- 
pocket. Then, advancing to the table, he took up the 
sole remaining epistle, and tore it open with a look of 
expectant disgust. As he read it his face brightened, 
and by and by he broke out with a “ Tra la la !” to a' 
popular dance tune, and took a turn or two with an im- 
aginary partner. 

“ That’s better,” said his companion. 

“ My dear boy,” Esden answered, turning with a sud- 
denly solemn countenance, “ you don’t know how much 
better it is. I’ll be hanged— I suppose a man may say 
he’ll be hanged in the presence of the cloth — I’ll be 
hanged if I knew how I should get through the vacation. 
And here’s an invitation from Wootton Hill to spend a 
couple of months there if I like. If I like ! Sha’n’t I 
like ? The old lady says Miss Pharr is there. Do you 
know, old chap, I rather think the old lady wants to give 
me a chance with Miss Pharr ? I think you know her. 
Scottish heiress. Freckled a bit. Beddish hair. Hot 
bad-looking. And the Oof Bird he singeth all day in 
her bowers. Old Pharr, her uncle, died at the beginning 
of the year, and left her everything.” 

The young clergyman rose and paced up and down 
the room, with a single glance at Esden. 

“ I should have thought better of you,” he said, some- 


32 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


what brusquely, “ than to suppose that you were a for- 
tune-hunter.” 

“All but the fortune-finders scorn the fortune-hunt- 
ers,” said Esden. “ But show me a chance of marrying 
a girl with fifteen thousand a year, and I’ll take it. So 
would you.” 

“ I beg your pardon,” said the parson, stiffly. “ I 
would do nothing of the sort.” 

His face, voice, and gait displayed more anger than 
the occasion seemed to call for, but he quieted himself 
and resumed his seat. 

“ You were telling a story,” he said, still speaking a 
little gloomily, “ about a fellow you defended yesterday.” 

“Was I?” said Esden. “Ah, yes. The burglar. 
There was no moral doubt in the world about his being 
guilty, but I wheedled the jury, and I got him off. He 
wanted to give me — ” 

The story of Mr. Gale’s curious souvenir was obvious- 
ly not to be told that day. A knock at the outer door 
cut short Esden’s speech, and he hastened to answer it. 
When he caught sight of his visitor he raised a swift 
forefinger and laid it on his lips, with a backward nod 
of the head to indicate the presence of a third person in 
the rooms. The outer door opened upon a square little 
hall, and from this two other doors opened, one leading 
to the bedroom and the other to the living-room. The 
bedroom door stood ajar, and Esden indicating it with a 
gesture, the new-comer passed through it on tiptoe, silent- 
ly and rapidly. The visitor was a pretty girl, ladylike, 
but not quite a lady. She had fine, dark, intelligent 
eyes and a wealth of black hair. She was attired very 
simply, but with a scrupulous neatness, and in a style 
which gave her at first sight almost an air of distinction. 
When she had passed into the bedroom, Esden drew the 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


33 


door cautiously towards him and secured the latch. 
Then he said, in a voice audible to the clergyman : 

“ All right. It will take me five minutes to find the 
papers, but I’ll come round directly I have them.” 

He spoke as if he addressed somebody without, and 
then, slamming the outer door, returned bustlingly. 

“ I haven’t time for another word, old fellow,” he said, 
seizing on a japanned tin box wdiich stood in one corner 
of the room. “ Most intricate case,” he went on, fum- 
bling for his keys, and kneeling on the floor beside the 
box. “ Shall have to work at it during the vacation.” 

“ When are you going down to Wootton?” asked the 
clergyman. 

“ To-morrow,” said Esden. “ Don’t bother me now, 
there’s a good old chap. Let me see, I want the Folliott 
papers, and that copy of Jamieson’s will, and Walker’s 
affidavits.” He had unlocked the box by this time, and 
was rummaging amid its contents. 

“ Very well,” said his visitor; “I’ll go, since you’re 
busy. I may see you again in a week or two.” 

“ All right,” Esden answered, springing to his feet 
and shaking hands with an air of hurry and absorption. 
“ Good-bye, old fellow. Sorry to chase you in this way. 
Hoped we might have had a long chat together.” 

Talking thus, he accompanied his guest to the outer 
door, and, being rid of him, dropped his business looks 
at once and entered the bedroom, laughing at the easy 
success of his small stratagem. 

“Well, my dear,” he cried, advancing to the girl as if 
to embrace her. “ This is an unexpected pleasure. You 
can’t guess how glad I am to see you.” . 

The girl looked disdainfully at him, and held out a 
hand to warn him away. 

“ Let us have no nonsense, if you please, Mr. Esden. 

3 


34 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


I came here upon a matter of importance to myself. If 
I had been left to my own will I should never have 
wished to see your face again.’’ 

“ Don’t be cruel, darling,” said Esden. “ If you knew 
how I pined to see you, and how happy the sight of your 
face made me a minute ago, you would be kinder.” 

He bent over her in an attitude of mingled respect 
and tenderness as he spoke. His voice murmured with 
so persuasive an entreaty that she took fright at it, and 
stamped her foot with a gust of defensive anger. 

“ I will not suffer you to talk to me in this way,” she 
said, with hands tightly clinched and eyes flashing. “ I 
was a fool ever to believe that you meant honestly by 
me. But I am not fool enough to listen to a villain.” 

“ Hard words for such soft and pretty lips to use,” said 
Don Juan, with the same tender and reverential air. “ I 
should like your portrait painted as you stand. You 
look gloriously handsome when you’re angry. Hot that 
I don’t like other expressions better. But then, you see, 
I’m not only madly in love with you, but I’m a bit of an 
artist.” 

She turned away from him, and pushing open the 
door which led to the sitting-room passed beyond it 
and took up a place upon the hearthrug. 

“ When you will listen to me,” she said, “ I will say 
what I have to say and go.” 

“ If you will think a minute,” he responded, “ you 
will see what a poor reason you give me for listening. 
Say what you want to say, and stay.” 

“ I have taken a place as lady’s maid,” she began, en- 
tering upon her story with no further preface. 

“ What a wretched shame !” broke in Esden. “ There’s 
no justice, even for beauty, nowadays. A thousand years 
ago you’d have met King Cophetua.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


35 


“My mistress,” she went on, having waited for him 
with an angry self-control, “ is a Miss Pharr— Miss Janet 
Pharr.” 

“ The deuce she is !” said Esden, surprised out of his 
airs of gallantry. 

“ Miss Pharr is a guest at your aunt’s house at Woot- 
ton Hill. I was in the room when they were talking 
about you last night, and I heard Mrs. Wyncott say that 
she was writing to invite you down. I got a holiday 
this morning on purpose to come here. You will be good 
enough, if you please, not to take any notice of me when 
you come, and not to let it be known that we have 
ever met before.” 

“ It’s lucky,” said Esden, “ that my cousin Arnold 
didn’t see you. He’s always about the house there, more 
or less, when he can snatch an hour or two from his 
work, and he was here when you came in. You might 
have relied on my discretion, even without taking the 
trouble to warn me, darling.” 

“ If you were really a gentleman in your heart,” she 
answered, angrily, “you would let a girl’s word be 
enough. I have told you that it is unpleasant to me to 
be addressed in that way.” 

“ How can I help it, dear? You are my darling!” 

She moved towards the door, without further response 
than that vouchsafed by an angry and contemptuous 
glance, and he, interposing himself, began to plead with 
her. 

“ Let me pass,” she said. 

“ You were different once,” cried Esden, “not so long 
ago. You even told me that you cared for me.” 

Her face went very white, and she breathed unevenly, 
so that when she answered him her utterance was halt- 
ing and irregular. 


36 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“ I did care for you. I am ashamed of myself because 
I care for you now, even though I have found out what 
kind of man you are. I can tell you that quite safely, 
Mr. Esden, and I shall be all the stronger for having 
told you. You made me love you, and then you taught 
me to despise you.” 

She had read the words somewhere, and the air with 
which she spoke them smacked a little of the footlights. 
But she was none the less evidently in earnest. Esden 
shrugged his shoulders with submission, and opened the 
door for her. 

“ Let us part friends at least,” he said, extending his 
hand. 

“ Let us part as strangers,” she answered, “ and meet 
as strangers. I have wished bitterly, a thousand times, 
that we had been strangers always.” 

She moved swiftly past him, and ran down the stairs. 
He followed for a pace or two, and looked after her, but 
she did not turn her head. 


CHAPTER III. 

Wyncott Esden had still another visitor that day — a 
long-haired, long-handed, nervous man, with a face that 
looked all nose. He had an impediment in his speech, 
and was inclined to be confidentially tearful. He an- 
swered to the name of J. P., and seemed contented with 
that mutilated form of address. 

“ You won’t think I’m bothering you, will you ?” said 
J. P. “ But if you forget that bill you’ll break me. I 
can’t meet it any more than I can fly.” 

“My dear fellow,” responded Esden, “ there’s no 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


37 


earthly need for you to worry. You may regard the 
thing as being settled. You will never hear another 
word about it.” 

The visitor, protesting that a great weight was taken 
from his mind, withdrew, and left Esden to himself. 

“ I must really do something about that matter,” he 
confessed, “ and I must do it at once, though where the 
deuce the money is to come from is more than I can 
guess. I can’t ruin J. P. That’s out of the question. 
I’ll see Sheldon. I’ll go and see him now.” 

He walked briskly into the Strand, and, hailing a 
hansom, drove to the offices of a money-lending solicitor 
of his acquaintance in Cork Street. Mr. Sheldon, de- 
spite his Christian-sounding name, was eminently Jew- 
ish in aspect and accent. 

“Want money?” he said, when Esden had unfolded 
his story. “ So do I. So does everybody. You’re 
likely to want it, and to go on wanting it. There’s 
more of your paper in the market than I’d give a far- 
thing in the pound for.” 

“I can’t let the other fellow in for the bill,” said 
Esden. 

“ Yery well, then,” responded the solicitor. “ Don’t.” 

Esden Iiad never worked at a jury as he worked at 
this obdurate Hebrew. He coaxed, cajoled, and flat- 
tered. He said a hundred good things, and the solicitor, 
who had a sense of fun, laughed until his sides ached. 
But whenever the insidious borrower returned to his 
theme, or gave a sign of returning to it, the Hebrew 
grew unchristian and morose. He employed a frank- 
ness which was nothing short of brutal. 

“ Dot a farthig ! It isn’t good enough.” 

It became evident in a while that Esden might as well 
hope to carve adamant with a quill as to squeeze gold 


38 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


from this Hebrew quartz, and he surrendered the effort 
with an apparent perfect good-humor. 

“ If you won’t, you know, you won’t.” 

“ I won’t,” said the solicitor, with unnecessary affir- 
mation. 

The barrister went away, to try his persuasive arts 
on others, but found the hour too late. Next day he 
scoured the city, and spent a pound in cab fares, to no 
effect. There was not a man in the whole money-lend- 
ing confraternity who would have advanced him half a 
crown on his note of hand for fifty pounds. To deal 
fairly with him, it must be admitted that J. P.’s petition- 
ary nose and feeble mouth and aspect of tearful inti- 
macy were constantly before him, and the sense of ob- 
ligation lay with an almost leaden weight upon his heart. 
It was certain that he had never meant to swindle poor 
' J. P. He had only meant to have, by hook or by crook, 
a hundred and fifty pounds, and it was dreadful to think 
that so small a sum of money should grow into so hor- 
rible a burden for any man to carry. For his own part, 
he felt that he could have supported a million. If people 
could have been found to trust him with the amount of 
the national debt, its proportions would never have 
appalled him. But he was J. P.’s vicar, so to speak, and 
did his suffering for him. J. P. had a wife and six chil- 
dren, and it was sad to think that the poor man was 
going to be ruined by an act of friendly confidence. 
Esden felt, all humbug apart, that he was really very, 
very sorry. But, after all, if the money was not to be 
got at, it was not to be got at, and there was nothing 
for it but to trust to the chapter of accidents. 

His last unavailing effort to secure the money brought 
him close to a City station and a restaurant. He was 
tired and hungry, and the hour at which he had prom- 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


39 


ised himself to reach Wootton Hill had come and gone 
already. So he resolved to economize time, and to that 
end despatched a commissionaire with a note to his 
laundress, instructing her to pack up such of his belong- 
ings as would be necessary for a month’s stay in the 
country. He dined while the man was away, and on 
his return with the luggage took the down train. He 
bought an evening journal or two, and was at first too 
vexed to read. But being of that elastic sort of mind 
which insistently returns to its native shape after any 
amount of twisting from without, he fell back into com- 
fort and good-humor almost before he knew it, and was 
reading and smoking with perfect placidity when the 
train drew up at the station. He was known there, and 
the station-master saluted him with a deference which 
was all the pleasanter on account of that little trouble 
of J. P.’s. Esden’s aunt was the personage of the neigh- 
borhood, and her guests naturally became people of local 
distinction. It was a little soothing to a man who could 
not for his soul raise so small a sum as one hundred and 
fifty pounds to wear the air of a person of distinction. 
It helped to rehabilitate him in his own opinion. 

“Yery sorry, sir,” said the station-master, respect- 
fully, “ we sha’n’t be able to send up your luggage for 
an hour. Leastways, not the whole of it. The man’s 
just gone up to the ’111 ’Ouse, sir, with the ’andcart.” 

“ All right,” said Esden ; “ let me have it to-night.” 

“ Of course, sir, without fail,” the station-master re- 
sponded. 

Esden walked away, feeling like an hereditary lord 
of the soil. Poor J. P. and his affairs had melted and 
were far away. 

The Hill House was a residence of considerable size, 
with little or no pretension to architectural beauty. It 


40 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


stood over the surrounding country, and was visible for 
a mile or two in almost any direction. It had a number 
of great stately trees about it, and there was something 
homely, serene, and mellow in its aspect, in spite of its 
exposure to all sorts of winds and weathers. The high- 
road led over the hill, and the gates were not more than 
twoscore yards from the house itself. The space was 
filled in by a lawn of ancient verdure, dotted with great 
trees, and an extension of this lawn in the rear of the 
house was shut out from the common gaze by a line of 
unusually well-grown rhododendron bushes. The house 
was bisected, as to its lower story, by an open hall, which 
ran from front to rear ; and when both doors were 
opened, as they often were in summer weather, people 
wffio drove by could look over the outer wall, across the 
lawn, along the shining expanse of polished oak floor- 
ing, and on to the sun-bathed green of the lawn in the 
rear. The two upper stories of the house were each in 
like manner divided by a corridor, and a broad winding 
staircase mounted at either end of the building to those 
upper regions. 

Esden, strolling comfortably up-hill, saw before him 
a man trundling a handcart. The man, pausing to rest, 
propped the wheel of the handcart with a stone, sat 
down upon one of the shafts, and mopped his forehead. 
The barrister came up with him just as he was preparing 
to start anew. He walked along by the side of the 
handcart, and read the superscription on the packages 
it contained. 

“ You’re going to Hill House?” he said, affably. The 
man answered in the affirmative. “ Bring my luggage 
on there from the station as soon as you can get back, 
there’s a good fellow.” 

The man was a new-comer, and Esden felt a certain 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


41 


mild pleasure in making him aware of his destination. 
The fellow touched his cap immediately, and looked 
respectful. 

“ You have a pretty heavy load there,” said Esden, 
condescendingly. 

“ Yes, sir,” said the man. “ Photographic tools, these 
is, sir. The lady’s been down half a dozen times to ask 
after ’em, sir.” 

“ Photographic tools ?” said Esden. “ Enough to set 
up a professional man. Don’t forget my luggage.” 

With that he sauntered affably along, and reached the 
house a hundred yards before the messenger. As he 
entered at the gate a little group of girls, habited in 
white flannel, and twining together very prettily and 
affectionately, were moving across the laAvn, chattering 
like a flock of starlings. Behind them, an elderly gen- 
tleman in black gave his arm to an elderly lady in gray. 
The visitor quickened his step and came up to the old 
couple. 

“Well, aunt,” he said, cheerfully, “here I am, and 
very glad I am to be here.” 

“My dear Wyncott,” the old lady responded, “we 
are very glad to have you.” 

The girls turned at the sound of the new arrival’s 
voice, and one of them walked towards him with a frank 
and boylike smile, and a hand outstretched in welcome. 

“ You have not forgotten me, Mr. Esden ?” 

There was a faint indication of a Scottish accent in 
the voice, and the speaker had the true Scotch fairness 
of complexion. She could hardly have been called a 
beauty, but there was something at first sight charming 
and engaging in her looks. She had frank and brave 
gray eyes, and a great quantity of brownish bronze hair, 
which just now floated about her head in a picturesque 


42 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


confusion. She had a knack of tossing this mane into 
shape by a swift motion of the head, and what with her 
fearless and friendly look, the extreme uprightness of 
her carriage, and something almost virile in her manner 
of shaking hands, she was at least as much like a boy 
in petticoats as she was like a young woman, notwith- 
standing the really supple and graceful lines of a very 
womanly figure. 

Esden protested gayly that her question was an insult 
alike to his understanding and his heart. There was a 
laugh at this, and with another handshake, and a bow 
or two, he moved on towards the house with the party. 

“ I am the bearer of good news, Miss Pharr,” he said. 
“ I am the advance guard of contentment.” 

“ That is very nice to know,” Miss Pharr responded, 
with a spice of friendly satire in her tone. 

“Your photographic apparatus,” said Esden, “is at 
this instant at the gate.” 

“ No !” cried the lady, in a tone of unexpected delight 
and energy, and without another word she turned and 
sped towards the gate by which Esden had entered. 
There she paused with a sort of expectant dance on tip- 
toe, and her hands clasped together, a straw hat in the 
one and a racket in the other. A little breeze was blow- 
ing up the hill, and her beautiful hair was waving and 
dancing in it. Esden turned upon his heel and followed 
her at leisure. 

“ She isn’t bad-looking,” he said to himself, “ and she 
has charming ways. I suspect that her way with the 
check-book is about as charming as any of them. I shall 
make as much running as I can, Miss Pharr, and you 
may take my word for it.” 

The young lady was fairly alight with expectation 
and excitement. When the man wheeled the handcart 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


43 


into the drive she laid hands upon the packages one by 
one, and walked alongside fondling them. She took up 
one of the lighter parcels and carried it in her arms, 
and, seeing Esden laughing at this enthusiasm, nod- 
ded brightly and laughed back at him in a pretty tri- 
umph. 

“ By George !” said Esden, inwardly, “ she’s really 
jolly. She wasn’t half as pretty as this last year.” 

He forgot that last year the lady’s income had been 
much more limited than it was at present. There had 
been no such reason for admiring her. 

In some five minutes’ time the dining-room presented 
a scene of prodigious litter. Miss Pharr had always 
been spoiled, had always been enthusiastic, and had 
always had her own way. Now, with fifteen thousand 
a year at her back, she had it more than ever. Such a 
cutting of cords, such a crackling and unfolding of brown 
paper, and such a wild heaping of articles upon chairs 
and tables, the sober apartment had never known before. 
Everything was pronounced superb of its sort, and there 
was such a chorus of admiration as might have been 
excited among a party of tourists admitted to view the 
splendors of Aladdin’s palace. Then the dressing-bell 
rang, and the servants were summoned in haste to carry 
away all the newly arrived treasures, and to make the 
apartment habitable once more. 

The old lady lingered, after everybody but Esden had 
trooped up-stairs. She was stout and scant of breath, 
and got about with difficulty, so that she had her apart- 
ments upon the ground floor. 

“ I shall put you next to Miss Pharr, my dear,” she 
said, in a confidential tone, with a twinkle of her kind 
old eyes. “Now, you know what I think about the 
matter. Quite apart from her money, she is a charming 


44 


A DANGEROUS CAT SPA W. 


girl, and she would make you a better wife than you 
deserve.” 

“ I,” said Esden, “ am the most obedient of nephews.” 

“ You are very clever and handsome,” the old lady 
responded, “ though I am afraid you are wickeder than 
you ought to be, like your poor dear father before }^ou. 
Now run away and dress.” 

a My dear aunt,” said Esden, “ I must confess to one 
crime. I have dined already. I was busy in the city, 
and had no time for luncheon, and I got so hungry that 
I really couldn’t stand it any longer ; and I can’t dress 
because there was nobody at the station to bring up my 
luggage.” 

“ You must come to table and entertain us. I forgot 
to tell you — you can’t have your old room, because Miss 
Pharr is there. Yours is the blue room at the other end 
of the corridor.” 

Esden escorted his aunt to the door of her apartments, 
and then went up-stairs, well pleased. J. P. and his con- 
cerns were miles away by this time, as clean forgotten as 
though they had never existed. The young gentleman 
felt that he had made an excellent fresh impression upon 
the heiress. She evidently retained a friendly memory 
of him, and when he had made such a toilet as he could 
he sat down at his bedroom window, and lost all sight of 
outward things while he laid his plan of campaign. He 
decided that he would not cease to be frankly friendly 
for at least a week. Then he saw himself growing a 
little shy, and looked on at the change with a sly and 
humorous self-approval. Then he went over a scheme 
of embarrassment at her appearances, of chance encoun- 
ters to be carefully arranged for ; of abrupt departures, 
when honest circumstances should leave them together. 
He would take in the old lady herself, and make her his 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


45 


confidante. He would grow ashamed of the mere thought 
of fortune-hunting when once his heart was genuinely 
engaged. At this he grinned and rubbed his hands de- 
lightedly. It would be high comedy to have his aunt 
frightened at his threat of a noble and self-sacrificing 
desire to quit the field, and excellent fun to be reluc- 
tantly persuaded to continue the chase — love conquering 
even the fear of being thought athirst for lucre. He 
revelled in all this in anticipation, even apart from any 
hope of final success. He was a ruseur by nature, and 
hardly knew a higher joy than to conquer by persuasive 
trickery ; and in a sort of fashion he was honest with it 
all. If he won he would make an excellent husband, 
and his wife would be proud of him. The battle of the 
courts was the breath of his nostrils, and he credited 
himself with brains enough to justify him in forecasting 
for himself one of the highest prizes to be gained at the 
bar. 

The dinner-bell roused him from these dreams, and he 
went gayly down to conquer. 


CHAPTER IV. 

He was less entertaining and amusing than he had 
meant to be, because the dinner-table talk was mainly 
confined to a subject of which he was entirely ignorant. 
But reflecting wisely that a good listener is just about 
as entertaining to other people as a good talker is to 
himself, he preserved for the most part a charming 
silence. 

It was natural that, after the arrival of Miss Pharr’s 
newly acquired treasure, the talk should fall upon jpho- 


46 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


tography. There were two amateur experts at table, 
and one as yet unlearned enthusiast. Miss Edith Wyn- 
cott, sole daughter of the lady of the house, a somewhat 
stately maiden of five-and-thirty, consoled herself with 
the photographic art as enthusiastically and lovingly as 
other maiden ladies console themselves with pugs, or 
parrots. Dr. Elphinstone, the elderly gentleman whom 
we found a while ago arming his hostess across the lawn, 
was old enough to remember the beginning of the art, 
and had watched its progress with a vivid interest. The 
world of science was indebted to him for a certain re- 
markable series of enlarged photographs of microscopic 
objects, so that he was a high authority. 

It was the talk of these two which had persuaded 
Miss Pharr to occupy her leisure in photographic work, 
and the conversation was nearly all of wet processes and 
dry, of gray lights and white lights, screws, swivels, caps, 
and shutters. In the end, it grew too technical for the 
novice, and then she left the battle to the two authori- 
ties, and talked generally about the charms of the pur- 
suit to Esden. It is not everybody in the world who 
could make a theme like this the means to display his 
own manly tenderness of heart, but Esden managed it. 
To have souvenirs of people and of places we have known 
or loved, not coldly bought for a shilling or two from a 
tradesman, but actually created by the labor of our own 
hands, must really be delightful. How charming, he 
urged, in solitude or age, to turn over the leaves of mem- 
ory with such an aid as this beautiful art afforded! 
What a pleasant thing it would be to photograph, say, 
a child, month by month, until he grew to manhood, 
and to trace the gradual growth of intellect and strength 
in that way ! The very combatants stopped in their 
dispute to listen to him. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


47 


“If I were a photographer,” said Esden, “I should 
make a point of dating all my work ; not from any de- 
sire to mark my progress in the art, but from reasons 
purely sentimental. Think of the diary one could keep 
in such a fashion.” 

“ That is really a valuable hint, Mr. Esden,” said the 
heiress. “ I shall adopt that suggestion, and I shall adopt 
it for that reason.” 

Mrs. Wyncott sent Esden a meaning smile from her 
place at the head of the table, as if to say, “ You are 
making excellent progress.” Esden forebore to smile 
back in return, though it cost him something of an effort. 
The heiress looked at him with a grave and candid ap- 
proval. She thought him a man of an admirable good 
heart ; and he, quite honestly and to his own surprise, 
began more and more to think her charming. 

^Elphinstone was a Scotchman, with a face like that of 
an unusually benevolent and sagacious old deerhound. 
Sir Walter’s pet, Maida, might almost have sat for his 
portrait. He was prodigiously solemn, even for his type, 
and his highest expression of humorous satisfaction was 
conveyed by a dry twitch and twinkle. He was grave 
about matters of the most ordinary import, but where 
a thing concerned him at all his seriousness was abys- 
mal. 

“Ye’re a very lucky pairson, Mess Janet,” he said, 
with his gracious and amiable solemnity, “to have het 
upon a time for the commencement off your studies at a 
moment when the sci’nce o’ chemistry as applied to pho- 
tography has so far pairfected itself. I began, for my 
own part, when ’twas en its enfancy. I remember pair- 
fectly well the time when your late uncle brought over 
that wonderful collection of jools and gems, and chains 
and coins, and owches and brooches. He asked me to 


48 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


photograph them for’m. He was just new back from 
Burmah, and the Art Journal was all agog to have 
drawings of them. We had the thengs penned down 
upon a board, and I got them ento the loveliest light y’ 
ever saw, and I photo’d them. There was a mighty 
discussion at the time as to whether some of the coins 
were authentic, and all the numismatists in the wide wide 
world took an enterest in the question. Well, I took 
the photos, and your uncle, being in a hurry, went 
straight back to Burmah with the oreginals. The pect- 
ures went from Edinburgh to London by the post, and 
were kept in the editor’s drawer for a month, and when 
the poor man went to hand them to the engraver they’d 
just clean flown. There was still a kind o’ smutch upon 
the paper, but any notion of a pecture they might have 
presented had vanished for guid and a’. There’s no dan- 
ger o’ the like o’ that happenin’ nowadays, and the ski- 
dent o’ photography may reckon himself happy in that 
he begins at a time when at least he’ll be played no 
tricks with.” 

The heiress laid her finger upon her lips, and looked 
across at the aged medico with an aspect of exaggerated 
secrecy. 

“We will say more of this hereafter, Dr. Elphinstone,” 
she said. “ Remind me in the drawing-room.” 

When dinner was over, Esden, who, under ordinary 
conditions, would have lingered for the enjoyment of a 
cigarette, had found the heiress so charming, and the 
beginning of his pursuit received so kindly, that he felt 
bound to follow her. When tea had been brought, and 
the servant who bore it had retired, Elphinstone remind- 
ed Miss Pharr of her promise. 

“ I know,” she said, with a delightful little mischiev- 
ous grimace at the old gentleman, “ that I shall be scold- 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


49 


ed for bringing them here;” and without a word of 
further explanation she darted from the room in her 
own vivid and boylike way, and presently returning 
with a morocco-bound despatch-box, laid it on the ta- 
ble, and unlocked it with a key she carried at her girdle 
along with a multitude of miniature kitchen utensils in 
silver. 

Dr. Elphinstone, leaning with both hands upon the 
table, made a long-drawn exclamation of wonder and 
delight as the box was opened. Esden was at the table 
already prepared to admire and wonder to precisely the 
extent to which wonder or admiration might be called 
for, and at the doctor’s cry of surprise and pleasure the 
others gathered around. 

“ But, Janet !” cried the old lady. “ This is midsum- 
mer madness. How dare you carry such things about 
with you ?” She stretched out a hand, and laid a fore- 
finger, which positively trembled with her delight, on a 
huge half-cut sapphire lying in the centre of the case. 
“ What are they worth?” she asked, in a tone which con- 
trasted comically in its eagerness and worship with her 
reproof. 

“ I can’t tell you,” Miss Pharr answered. “ I dare say 
my uncle may have registered them at their full value. 
They were lying insured at the Credit Lyonnais in Paris 
for half a million of francs. They were eating their 
heads off there, like unused horses in a stable. They 
were costing a thousand pounds a year for insurance. I 
can stable them in England much more cheaply.” 

Everybody about the table stared at the gems and 
coins as if they had been jewels in a fairy tale. The doc- 
tor touched them one by one with a reverent forefinger. 

“ I remember,” he said, with unusual solemnity. “ I 
remember.” 

4 


50 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


The case, which was no larger than a sheet of post- 
quarto, opened into two compartments, and in these 
gems old and new lay enshrined in violet velvet, togeth- 
er with rings, coins, and chains of Oriental workman- 
ship. The heiress deftly whipped out a tray in the lower 
section of the box. 

“ There,” she said, “ is the real treasure.” 

The onlookers bent forward with craned necks and 
jostling shoulders, each unconscious of the others. The 
real treasure was less inviting to the eye than the one 
first seen. The gems displayed were for the most part 
rock-encrusted, but every one on the upper side had, to 
a greater or smaller extent, been cut and polished, so 
that they flashed with gleams of sapphire and emerald 
and yellow diamond light — a light furtive and concealed. 
The doctor drew an inward breath, and with extended 
thumb and forefinger touched one great stone, an eme- 
rald. Then, looking at the owner with an air of request 
and apology, he drew it from its place and laid it softly 
in the palm of his left hand. 

“ I’m a lettle bet of an amateur,” he said, in a half 
awe-struck tone. 

“ That,” cried Miss Pharr, laughing, “ is quite a boast 
for Dr. Elphinstone. When he admits himself to be “ £ a 
lettle bet of an amateur ’ ” — with an audacious mimicry 
of the old gentleman’s tone and manner — “ he means to 
say that he knows everything that can be known.” 

The doctor turned upon her and twinkled. 

“ May so old a gentleman as myself invite so young a 
leddy as you are not to talk nonsense ? Janet, this is 
just wonderful ?” He stood poring over the jewel and 
watching its rich gleaming green for a minute, and then 
returned it reverently to its place. Then he stretched 
his white fingers over the collection as if he blessed it. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


51 


“ Eh ?” he said, suddenly, as if some one had addressed 
him, and then in an inward murmur repeated the line, 
‘Full many a gem of purest ray serene.”’ 

“ Janet,” said Mrs. Wyncott, solemnly, “ you must not 
keep these valuables in the house. I shall never be able 
to sleep so long as they are here. You will have us all 
murdered in our beds.” 

“ There is not a soul except ourselves who knows that 
they are here,” Miss Pharr responded. “ I did not even 
mention them before the servants at dinner. Besides 
that, they are not the sort of thing a thief would care to 
steal. They are too remarkable to be easily disposed of.” 

“ Pray don’t be too certain of that, Miss Pharr,” said 
Esden. “ I have encountered professionally a score of 
gentlemen who would willingly risk their necks for such 
a booty. And, as for disposing of them, there is an act- 
ual firm of receivers of stolen goods in London who are 
known to be ready, at almost any hour, with five thou- 
sand pounds.” 

“ Wyncott Esden knows these things,” said Miss Wyn- 
cott. “ His profession brings him into contact with those 
dangerous people. You should really listen to his ad- 
vice, Janet.” 

“Well,” said Miss Pharr, looking up at Esden, “do 
you think it unwise for me to have them with me V’ 

“ I think it a little rash and hazardous,” he answered. 

“ But,” said the owner of the jewels, with a momen- 
tary amused petulance, “ you want to make them a sort 
of white elephant to me. What is the good of a girl 
having the things at all if she is only to lock them up 
in a bank and pay for their being kept there ?” 

“ That’s a verra pointed query,” said Dr. Elphinstone ; 
“ but I should be ill at ease with them if they belonged 
to me.” 


52 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“ I suppose,” said Miss Pharr, replacing the tray which 
covered the more valuable gems, “ that I may be allowed 
to keep my mother’s jewelry. And yet, to my mind, 
they are more dangerous than the others. You have 
only to wrench these stones from their setting, and no- 
body could identify them.” 

“ Poor Robert would hardly have cared for the idea 
of the collection being dessipated, or I should counsel 
their being put upon the market,” said Dr. Elphinstone. 

“ That I shall never do,” said Miss Pharr, decisively. 
She closed and locked the casket. “ In the meantime,” 
she continued, laughing, “guard my dangerous secret. 
There is a very strong and snug little cupboard in my 
bedroom, and there they shall lie until I can find time 
to run up to town with them. Then they shall go to 
the bankers, s Am I likely to encounter a burglar on the 
stairs ?” 

“Janet, I beg you not to talk of such terrible things 
in a tone of levity,” said the old lady. “ It is a wanton 
tempting of Providence.” 

There are some people who seem to think that Provi- 
dence lies in wait for little opportunities of this kind. 
It is a disrespectful theory, and would seem to imply a 
capricious sort of vigilance at best. 

Miss Pharr ran off with her jewels, locked them in 
the cupboard she had spoken of, and returned. Esden 
so manoeuvred as to place himself, with apparent natu- 
ralness, at her side, and they had a bright and cheerful 
talk together. Every moment she grew more prepos- 
sessing to his fancy, and he began to think that if things 
went on at this pace there would be no need for preten- 
ces in a week’s time from now. So far as he could judge 
— and he was neither outrageously vain nor a fool — the 
impression he made was as favorable as the one he re- 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


53 


ceived. He went to bed with a light heart, but the hap- 
less J. P. haunted his pillow and darkened his midnight 
hours until he went to sleep and dreamed of Miss Pharr 
and Golconda. 


CHAPTER V. 

Esden was rather a late bird for the country as a rule, 
but next morning the man had no sooner brought in 
his tub and shaving-water than he bundled out of bed. 
Overnight a photographic expedition had been arranged, 
and Miss Pharr was too eager to play with her new toy 
to suffer herself to be delayed by any late-comer. Es- 
den wanted to be helpful, and was naturally resolved to 
be profoundly interested in photography. 

The man appointed to attend to his necessities had 
opened his portmanteau and stacked away his belong- 
ings with perfect neatness. He had not, however, opened 
the dressing-case, which closed with a snap lock, and 
that light task was left to the hands of the proprietor. 
Esden, growling a little at the delay, sought for the 
key, found it, and opened the case. There, at the bot- 
tom of the bag, to his considerable astonishment, lay 
the severed halves of Mr. Reuben Gale’s curious souvenir. 

“ How, what the deuce did the old fool think I wanted 
that for ?” he asked, half aloud. “ What on earth does 
she think it is, I wonder ?” 

He remembered having found it upon his pillow on 
going t<? bed on the night of his experiment with the 
door. He had unscrewed the tool, and set it on the 
chest of drawers, and there his laundress had obviously 
found it. 


54 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“ Thought it would come in handy, no doubt,” he said, 
laughingly, as he applied the soap-brush to his chin. 
“ So it would, with Miss Pharr’s jewels in the house. 
There’s a good joke there. I’ll take it down, and tell 
them the story.” 

It crossed his mind that it would be a jest to pretend 
to have found it and to argue from it the presence of a 
burglar in the house ; but he had too much wit to turn 
practical joker, and abandoned that idea before it was 
fairly formed. He was dilatory with his dressing, and 
the breakfast bell ringing before he was half ready for 
it, put his discovery out of mind. He closed the dress- 
ing-bag with a snap, and had reached the foot of the 
stairs before he recalled the thought of the implement. 

“ Never mind,” he said to himself. “ There’ll be 
more leisure for a story after dinner;” and so went 
down and encountered his hostess and his fellow-guests 
as brightly as he had left them ten hours before. 

“ A letter for you, Wyncott,” said the old lady. Es- 
den took it from her hand and recognized J. P.’s super- 
scription. He sat down and opened the envelope with 
the handle of an egg-spoon, and took out the missive 
somewhat jerkily. His correspondent wrote that he 
had heard news which had very much disturbed him. 
He had called at chambers for the purpose of talking it 
over, and the laundress, knowing their intimacy, had 
given him Esden’s address. Was that bill really all 
right ? J. P. wanted to know. It was a matter of life 
and death to him, and the information he had received 
made him fear that it was doubtful. Would Esden wire ? 

The young barrister had hard work to conceal his an- 
noyance. He wouldn’t have let that wretched J. P. in 
for this, so he told himself, for all the money in the 
world. Apart from the fact that it was really pitiful 


•A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


55 


to damage so helpless a personage, it was disastrous 
to hurt a man of J. P.’s temperament, because every- 
body would know the injury he had sustained, and the 
cause of the trouble would inevitably have made life a 
burden to him. If it had not been that the others were 
supplied with a theme in which they were warmly inter- 
ested, the fall in Esden’s spirits, and the sham gayety 
with which he tried to mask it, would hardly have es- 
caped notice. Confound J. P. ! What had he got to 
howl about — as yet? Let him howl when the time 
came ! Esden was righteously wrathful at the fact that 
J. P. would not accept his reiterated word. 

Breakfast over, a council of campaign was held, and, 
everybody being intrusted with something to carry, the 
party set out with Miss Pharr’s brand-new paraphernalia 
in search of landscape beauties at W ootton W ood. There, 
at an indicated spot, they were to be met by luncheon, 
and the three photographers at least were bent upon 
making a day of it. 

They had scarcely reached their destination, and were 
all busily interested in working or watching, when the 
gardener’s boy from the house came up, hot and breath- 
less, with a telegram for Esden. This also came from 
J. P., and Esden, walking a little apart to open it, broke 
into maledictions on its sender, until he caught sight of 
the brown-faced boy at his elbow, staring aghast and 
open-mouthed at him. He had an impulse upon him to 
wring the boy’s neck, but humor was his forte rather 
than ill-temper, and he laughed instead. “ For Heaven’s 
sake, wire,” ran J. P.’s message, and Esden, tearing a 
blank leaf from his pocket-book, pencilled a message in 
reply. “All right. Don’t be an old ass.” He gave 
this to the boy with half a crown, and bade him take it 
to the post-office with all convenient speed. 


56 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“ Be oi to bring back the chynge, sir ?” the boy asked. 

“ No,” said Esden, “ yon can keep it.” 

The boy’s face beamed, and he was off with a touch 
of his hat-brim. When he thought himself at a distance 
to be unobserved, he was seen to hurl his hat in the air, 
and to execute a wild flourish of delight with a pair of 
prodigious boots. Miss Pharr as well as Esden caught 
sight of him, and burst into a merry peal of laughter. 

“ You have gladdened one heart to-day, Mr. Esden,” 
she said, pleasantly. 

This half restored Esden’ s balance. It was worth while 
even to be badgered a little, if the badgering in any way 
helped to establish him in Miss Pharr’s good opinion. 
But J. P. obstinately refused to be altogether got rid of. 
There were, indeed, moments when he seemed so vividly 
present, with that new-moon of a nose of his and his 
half-opened mbuth of resigned complaint, that Esden 
loathed him, and could have willingly done him bodily 
injury if that could have helped the case. 

With all this, it was his business to be unobtrusively 
helpful, and constantly interested in Miss Pharr’s oper- 
ations. The doctor and the maiden lady were full of ad- 
vices, and were both itching to do the work themselves. 
The spot was a little Paradise for a landscape artist. Ev- 
ery change of posture, every half-dozen paces gave a new 
picture. Everybody in the party was grouped and posed 
repeatedly, and even when the operations were cut short 
by the arrival of luncheon, Miss Pharr’s amateur enthu- 
siasm was unabated, and her artistic appetite uncloyed. 

The cloth was spread upon a little turfy table at the 
very edge of the wood, and the spot commanded a view 
of the house and of the winding path across the fields 
which led towards it. They were but half-way through 
the meal when Esden, glancing out of the shadow, gave 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


57 


an actual groan of impatience and rose to his feet. There 
was J. P.’s ramshackle figure on the pathway, and the 
gardener’s boy was escorting him. 

“What is the matter, Wyncott ?” asked the doctor. 

“ Here’s the deadliest bore in Europe,” he responded. 
“ He’s a client of mine, and a personal acquaintance into 
the bargain. He presumes on that to come and talk 
about his case to me. I won’t endure him. I shall send 
him back to his solicitor.” 

So saying, he walked off to meet his unwelcome vis- 
itor, who, seeing him approaching, waved his stick in 
recognition, and fumbled in his pockets for a tip for the 
boy. He wore long-fingered dogskin gloves, and was by 
nature one of those clumsy-handed people who do noth- 
ing easily. He groped so long for the threepenny piece 
he wanted that Esden came up with him just as he had 
found it. They both kept silence until the boy had ac- 
cepted the coin and retired with a salute. 

“ How, my dear fellow, what do you want here ?” Es- 
den asked, in a tone of impatience. 

“ Well, you see,” mumbled the visitor, behind his 
nose, “you should have wired, Esden. You ought to 
have wired.” 

“ Hang it all, man,” Esden answered, “ I did wire.” 

J. P. took the air of one suddenly arrested, and stared 
at Esden with rounded eyes, and his mouth a little open 
as if he were making ready to bleat. 

“I never got it,” he said, feebly. “Where did you 
send it to ?” 

“ I sent it to the office,” Esden answered. “ I sent it 
immediately on receipt of yours.” 

“ Oh !” said J. P., “ that accounts for it. I didn’t go 
to the office this morning. I was waiting at home all 
day for an answer. What did you say 2” 


58 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“ I said, ‘ All right. Don’t be an old ass.’ ” Esden 
laid both hands on J. P.’s shoulders, and gave him a 
cordial little shake. “ You go home, old man,” he said, 
calling up his brightest and most friendly smile, “ and 
make your mind quite easy.” 

“Well, if you say that,” J. P. returned, dubiously, “it 
takes a weight off a man’s mind, of course. But they 
told me in the City last night that you were moving 
heaven and earth to raise a hundred and fifty, and it 
made me anxious.” 

“ Now, look here, J. P.,” said Esden, with a gentle se- 
verity. “ I’ve written to you that it’s all right. I’ve 
wired to you that it’s all right. I’ve told you over and 
over again, speaking to you face to face, that it’s all 
right.” 

“Well — oh, of course, if you put it that way,” said 
J. P., still dubious. 

“ Don’t you fret,” said Esden ; “ you shall never hear 
any more about it.” 

J. P. said again that a load was taken from his mind, 
though he looked as if an added burden had been laid 
upon it. 

“You see, Esden,” he mumbled, in meek apology, “it 
would be an awful thing for me to have to meet it. Six 
girls, you know, all in perfect health, and such appetites 
you’d hardly credit. Then Mrs. P.” — it seems that she, 
too, was shorn of a whole surname like himself — “is 
very ailing and weakly. We have had to take on an- 
other woman to look after the children, and the doctor’s 
bills are something awful. Of course, I must let her 
have the best assistance, and a good doctor is very ex- 
pensive.” 

“I know, old chap, I know,” said Esden, laying a 
hand upon his shoulder. At that moment his heart 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


59 


ached with compassion and repentance. “You sha’n’t 
be hurt, J. P. He would be a hard-hearted devil who’d 
damage you, old chap.” i 

“Well, then,” said J. P., “ I can rely upon you ?” 

“ You can rely upon me,” Esden answered. 

He walked back with him towards the station, and 
had to seem high-spirited and easy of heart all the way. 
The poor J. P. went off comforted, and Esden strolled 
back bitterly unhappy, and filled with an impotent loath- 
ing of himself. He had spoken one phrase in all sincer- 
ity. It was base indeed to hurt so harmless a creature. 
But how could he help it, and how escape the disgrace 
which seemed falling upon himself, he could not guess. 


CHAPTER VI. 

The placid Mrs. Wyncott watched her impecunious 
nephew’s progress with the heiress with a growing sat- 
isfaction. She was one of those people who believed 
that reformed rakes make the best husbands, which is 
at least as true as that pickpockets retired from practice 
are the most faithful of trustees. Esden had certainly 
been a bit of a rake in his day. Once the old lady had 
paid his debts for him, and there had been so pronounced a 
coolness on her side after this act of kindness, that Esden, 
who had natural and considerable expectations from her, 
had been compelled to pretend to a condition of financial 
prosperity which he was very far from enjoying. He 
had even gone so far, when he had grown quite sure of 
his aunt’s forgiveness, as to offer repayment. The old 
lady had been very kind with him on this occasion, and 
had shed a tear or two over the returned and respectable 


60 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


prodigal. It was quite right, in her judgment, for a 
young man to sow his wild oats ; but she had a strong 
impression, too, that the young man should reserve a 
special field for them, and should bring home some mar- 
ketable harvest. Of her two nephews she had been 
used to prefer Arnold, but Arnold had gone into the 
Church. Mrs. Wyncott’s father had been a pronounced 
Whig in the terrible old Nineties, and she had imbibed 
from him certain vague notions about the Godhead of 
Reason, which left the Church respectable to her mind, 
but behind the age and a trifle feeble. A man with 
Arnold’s figure should have gone into the Guards. She 
was a little parsimonious, but she had cared enough for 
him to find the money for that somewhat expensive and 
unprofitable career. He chose the Church in spite of 
her, and her affection' for him cooled, until she began to 
like the scapegrace better than the clergyman. 

There was an understood feud between her and her 
daughter Edith on this point. Edith was a devout 
churchwoman, and reprobated mamma’s freethinking 
opinions, vague and harmless as they were. Then the 
old maid — with that tender insight which unmarried 
women who have passed their prime unloved so often 
have — had penetrated a secret to which her mother was 
blind. Arnold was seriously in love with Miss Pharr, 
and was only frightened away by the contemplation of 
her money. She held the key to another secret which 
needed no tenderness to discover. The money which 
drove the solider and worthier man away was the bait 
which drew his shallower and less deserving cousin. 
She liked Wyncott Esden — most people liked him — and 
she was not very severe in her judgment about him. 
But she esteemed the other man infinitely more highly. 
So, while mamma benevolently plotted in behalf of the 


A DANGEROUS CAT SPA W. 


61 


barrister, Miss Wyncott took the cause of the clergy- 
man in hand, and determined to do her best for him. 

Miss Pharr and Esden and the old doctor were out 
photographing together, and the old lady was inwardly 
complacent at the prospect of the two young people be- 
ing left much in each other’s society. She had never 
dared to warn Edith out of the way, but she triumphed 
over the small stratagem which she believed to have 
kept her at home that morning. By and by, however, 
she discovered that there was another strategist on the 
field. 

“ It looks very hot outside this morning,” said the 
younger lady, leisurely plying her needle. “ I am glad 
I stayed within doors.” 

“ So am I, my dear,” mamma answered, comfortably. 

“ It has given me an opportunity,” said Miss Wyn- 
cott, “ of writing to Arnold.” Mamma dropped her 
book upon her lap, and folded her plump hands upon 
it with an expression almost of dismay. “ I don’t know 
how it is that one’s hands seem so full always,” Edith 
went on, with no admission of having noticed this change 
of attitude, “ but one never seems to have time for any- 
thing.” 

She went on stitching, with downcast eyes, and the 
old lady, making her tone as tranquil as she could, 
asked : 

“ What did you say to Arnold ?” 

“ I told him we should be very glad to see him if he 
would come down.” 

“ Edith !” cried the old lady, with sudden shrillness. 

“ Yes, dear?” said Edith, looking innocently up at her. 

“ For goodness’ sake,” exclaimed Mrs. Wyncott, “ don’t 
take these airs with me. You know very well that I 
don’t want Arnold here at present. I don’t want any 


62 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


other young man than Wyncott about the house at 
present. I forbid you to send that letter. 

For sole answer Miss Wyncott arose from her seat 
and rang the bell. Mamma fanned herself with a de- 
fined air of triumphant indignation, and her daughter 
w T ent back to her sewing. By and by a servant appeared 
in answer to the summons. 

“ Ask Grainger to come here,” said Edith. 

“ Grainger, Miss Wyncott?” repeated the servant. 

“ Grainger,” repeated Edith, “ Miss Pharr’s maid.” 

There was another pause, and Mrs. Wyncott’s fan 
took a disturbed and doubtful movement. In a little 
while Grainger came, looking reserved and handsome; 
and as if under a sort of stately compulsion. She w T as 
dressed in discreet black, with white linen at the wrists 
and throat, and her lustrous black hair was rolled into a 
great knot. She looked as unyielding and disdainful here 
as she had done in Esden’s chambers a w T eek earlier. 

The younger lady did not so much as trouble to glance 
at her. 

“ You have been to the village ?” she asked, in a tone 
of icy sweetness. 

“ Yes, Miss Wyncott.” 

“ Did you post the letter I gave to you ?” 

“ Yes, Miss Wyncott.” 

“ Thank you. That will do.” 

Grainger retired, closing the door behind her. 

“ I am naturally very sorry, mamma,” said Edith, “ but 
you see it is too late.” 

“ You have done this in order to spite me, Edith, and 
to thwart my plans,” cried the old lady, in an angry 
flutter. 

“Really, mamma,” Edith responded, “you say the 
strangest and most unaccountable things. What plans 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


63 


of yours do I know of that could possibly be thwarted 
by Arnold’s presence here ?” 

“ Ob !” responded the old lady, “ I have no patience. 
You call yourself a Christian woman, Edith. I have no 
faith in you sanctimonious people. If there is any dif- 
ference between telling a lie and acting one, I’m sure 
the difference is in favor of the telling.” Edith sewed 
on contentedly. “ How dare you try to face me out 
with a pretence that you knew nothing of my plans !” 

“ Mamma,” said Edith, u you will not forgive yourself 
for this outburst so readily as I shall.” 

“ Fiddlestick !” said the old lady. “ If you succeed in 
spoiling what I am trying to do — and you know what I 
am trying to do as well as I do myself — I will never 
forgive you to the day of my death, and I’ll will every 
penny to Wyncott.” 

“ I have my own modest competence, mamma,” said 
Edith, with something almost saintly in her tone. 

“ You may make the most of it,” her mother respond- 
ed, angrily. If she had been as young as her daughter, 
she would have left the room in a swirl of petticoats. 
As it was, she went off the scene with a sense of some- 
thing wanting in the way of dignified rapidity. 

“ Do not walk too fast, mamma,” said Edith, with a 
readiness of pardon which completed the other’s exasper- 
ation. “ You will only heat yourself, and be unnerved 
afterwards.” 

How this scene, coming on a proclamation of Miss 
Wyncott’ s tender-heartedness, may seem to contradict 
it, but only for the superficial. If her mother had been 
but a hundredth part as distressed and annoyed about 
anything else in the world, she would have been sure of 
her daughter’s sympathy. But here was a love affair in 
which each had an interest, and Edith would have done 


64 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


almost anything to prevent her candidate from being 
jostled out of the running. She wanted a finger in that 
delicious love-pie which no man had ever baked for her 
eating. There was something almost pious, too, a feel- 
ing of saintly satisfaction, in the thought that she might 
help to roll Miss Pharr’s thousands from the worldling’s 
track, and send them in the Church’s way. 

As Miss Wyncott went on with her sewing, her 
thoughts turned, with a grave disapproval, on the ac- 
cent and bearing of Miss Pharr’s new maid. She had 
not liked the new maid from the moment of her arrival, 
but she had never liked her so little as in the brief inter- 
view of that morning. Grainger’s manner had been un- 
deniably haughty, and so long as domestic service shall 
continue as an institution, ladies will object to being 
treated de haut en has by their friends’ maids. The 
more Miss Wyncott thought of Grainger’s manner the 
less she liked it. Now, the fact was, that Grainger was 
by nature of a very sweet and serviceable disposition ; 
but the expectation of Esden in the house had laid a 
chilling constraint upon her from the first, and on her 
way back from the errand upon which Miss Wyncott 
had despatched her, the girl had had an encounter of the 
most disturbing sort. 

The house and the railway station were both on the 
high-road, though at a considerable distance from each 
other, but the way to the village ran through a close- 
grown copse. Through the middle of this copse babbled 
a little runnel, not more than a foot wide in dry weather. 
The formation of its banks showed that in winter it could 
assume considerable proportions, but at the present sea- 
son of the year the wooden bridge which crossed it 
looked disproportionately and even absurdly long. As 
Grainger approached this bridge she saw a gentleman 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


65 


lounging moodily upon it, with his elbows on the rail, 
and a walking-stick dangling from one hand. She drew 
her skirts on one side, and quickened her step to pass 
him, for she was a town-bred girl, and the solitude, si- 
lence, and dimness of the little wood awed and fright- 
ened her more than a little. An unknown lonely street 
on a dark night would have had no such terrors for her 
as this quiet bit of woodland. When she was within 
six feet of the moody gentleman, he turned and assumed 
an erect posture so abruptly that she all but walked into 
his arms. She recoiled with an involuntary smothered 
cry. 

“ Let me get by, Mr. Esden !” 

“You seem in a deuce of a hurry to get by,” said 
Esden, looking at her with a face of unusual gloom. 

“ I am in a hurry,” she responded. “ I am doing an 
errand for Miss Wyncott. Let me go by.” 

“ You weren’t always in such a hurry to get away 
from me,” said Esden. 

“ I wonder,” she answered, with an angry flash, “ that 
you should have the face to speak about those times to 
me. I wonder ” — and then on a sudden her voice began 
to quaver — “ that you can find the heart — ” 

Then, to Esden’s discomfiture, and somewhat to his 
amazement, she began to cry. She turned away from 
him to find her handkerchief, and, having found it, hid 
her face. Her sobs became almost convulsive, and her 
figure writhed as though she struggled with herself. He 
put his arm about her waist, intending to console her, 
but she sprang away from him and faced him, with the 
handkerchief clasped in both hands, and her face dis- 
torted with weeping. 

“You!” she said, passionately. “Are you a man? 
What right have you to stop me here ?” 

5 


66 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“ I never thought you cared as much as this, Polly,” 
said Esden. 

“What right have you to say I care?” she asked. 
“ You would have left me with enough to care for, if I 
had been the fool you thought I was.” 

“ My dear,” said Esden, “ if you think that I’m the 
sort of brute to throw a woman over after getting all I 
care for, you’re very much mistaken. For my own part, 
I never thought marriage was a part of the bargain. I 
never fancied it entered your mind to think so.” 

“ When a man tells a girl he loves her,” she answered, 
with a vehemence so passionate that she could hardly 
find words for it, “ he either means marriage or he is a 
villain. Do you talk to Miss Pharr as you used to talk 
to me? Do you dare to think of her as you had the 
impudence to think about me ?” 

“ Don’t talk about Miss Pharr, if you please,” said 
Esden, sombrely. “I’m sorry that I hurt your pride. 
I’m sorry that we misunderstood each other.” 

“ Hurt my pride ?” she said. “ Hurt my pride ? You 
hurt my pride in you. I thought you were a man. I 
thought you were a gentleman.” 

“ Well, well, Polly,” said Esden. “ Let sleeping dogs 
lie. I beg your pardon. There ! I’m very sorry.” 

She disdained his offered hand, and he, shrugging his 
shoulders, turned and walked away with a more deject- 
ed air than ever. When she had been left alone for a 
little while, the girl, by a strong effort, suppressed her 
tears, and, climbing down the bank by the side of the 
runlet, steeped a part of her handkerchief in the clear, 
cool waters, and removed all traces of her late passion. 
Esden meanwhile strode up to the house on some slight 
commission which he had undertaken for Miss Pharr, 
and walking briskly, by mere force of motion cleared 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


67 


away for the moment — as men of his temperament can 
do— the troubles which lay upon his mind. 

Next day Arnold ran down from town by an early 
train, and was received rather icily by the old lady. The 
younger lady was extremely warm on the contrary, and 
had never been so hospitable, and so cousinly affection- 
ate in all his kindly remembrance of her. 

Miss Pharr was still indefatigable in her enjoyment 
of the new toy, and the old doctor was her willing slave, 
as he had been from the time when she tyrannized over 
him in her babyhood. She was very deft -handed and 
quick to learn, and with so experienced a monitor con- 
stantly at her elbow she made delightful progress. They 
had set up a tent upon the lawn, and were now bent on 
getting pictures of the house from half a dozen different 
points of view. Mrs. Wyncott, who sat reading in the 
tent at the moment of Arnold’s arrival, was pleased to 
see that the heiress received him with a manner very 
different from that with which she had welcomed his 
‘cousin. Miss Pharr was a trifle shy with the young 
clergyman, and gave no sign of pleasure when she greet- 
ed him. 

Arnold himself seemed not altogether at his ease, and 
the young barrister fluttered so assiduously about the 
heiress that, but for Edith’s attentions to him, the curate 
would have felt himself altogether in the cold. At lunch- 
eon he was perforce taken into conversation, and there 
he dropped what turned out to be a sort of social bomb- 
shell, though he let it fall quite unawares. 

“ Whom do you think I met in town last night, Wyn- 
cott ?” he asked, addressing his cousin. 

“ That’s rather a wide riddle,” Wyncott answered, 
lightly. 

“ I met the Boomer — Boomer Brown.” 


68 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“ Never !” cried Esden, starting from the table. He 
stood upright, with a flushed face, and cast a swift glance 
around the table. Then he turned pale and sat down 
again, drawing up his chair behind him. “ I beg your 
pardon,” he said, with an odd catch in his voice. “ I’d 
heard the Boomer was dead. Boyce told me so. Ar- 
nold’s announcement,” he added, turning to his aunt, 
and tapping his fingers upon his chest, “ hit me rather 
hard. It was like seeing a ghost to hear it. I must go 
and see the Boomer, Arnold.” 

“ You will have to be pretty quick about it,” Arnold 
answered. “ He’s off again to-night, I fancy.” 

“ Off ?” said Esden. “ Where ?” 

“ Back to Honduras.” 

“ My dear aunt,” said Esden, rising slowly this time, 
“ I am sure you will forgive me, but this is a dear old 
friend of mine. I thought he was dead, and that I 
should never see his face again. I must run up to see 
him. You’ll excuse me, won’t you? We were at Cam- 
bridge together, the old Boomer and I. There isn’t a 
better fellow in the world.” 

He was very oddly moved, and everybody at table 
remarked it. 

“ Go by all means, Wyncott,” the old lady answered. 

“ You know where he’s staying, Arnold?” 

“ Yes. At the Langham. He’s there till six, I fancy.” 

“ All right,” said Esden. “ How do the up-trains go ?” 

“ There is one due in a quarter of an hour, sir,” said 
the servant who waited at table. “ One twenty - five, 
sir.” 

“I’ll take that,” said Esden. “I’ll take a handbag 
with me in case I should be able to induce him to stay 
another night in town. I wouldn’t miss him for the 
world.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


69 


With that he left the room, and was heard racing up- 
stairs, three steps at a time. Shortly he was heard 
racing down again, and when he thrust his head in at 
the door in passing he looked positively radiant. 

“If I’m not down by nine o’clock, don’t expect me 
to-night,” he said, and disappeared, smiling. 

“Very well, dear,” Mrs. Wyncott answered, but he 
was gone already. “ Those affections between young 
men,” the old lady added, turning to Miss Pharr, “ are 
very beautiful to see. When you see that kind of feel- 
ing in a young man, you know what sort of a heart he 
has. Poor dear Wyncott ! He was quite moved.” 

That poor dear Wyncott had been moved, and deeply 
moved, was obvious to the poorest observer. But it was 
not his warmth and tenderness of attachment towards 
this casually mentioned friend which had so excited him. 
The plain English of the matter was that the Boomer 
was not only one of the most generous and amiable men 
in Esden’s acquaintance, but beyond comparison the 
wealthiest. He had but to tell the story of his embar- 
rassments to the Boomer to be lifted out of them. He 
could hear his friend’s noisy, cheerful voice booming at 
him in anticipation — “Three hundred, my boy? Cer- 
tainly. Make it five.” It is not to be supposed that 
the Honduras millionaire had this agreeable and easy 
way with every old college acquaintance, but it hap- 
pened that he had saved Esden from drowning once 
upon a time, and from that moment forward had been 
as fond of him as if he had brought him into being. 

To save that forlorn J. P. — to save himself — it was a 
glorious prospect ! The summer sun had never shone 
more brightly for Esden than it did that afternoon. 
The broad earth laughed to his rejoicing fancy. He 
threw care to the winds, and sat like a king, with his 


10 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


thoughts for courtiers, as the train bore him slowly 
through the sleepy pastures. When he reached the ter- 
minus and hailed a hansom he was so full of high spirits 
that the very cabby grinned responsive to his smile, and 
rattled him along to the Langham with a solace for his 
own hard-bitten fancies. 

At the portal blank midnight fell on everything. 
Brown 5 was gone. He had taken the morning-train, and 
had left no address behind him. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A little after luncheon Miss Pharr and the doctor 
went back to the lawn and resumed operations there. 
Mrs. Wyncott, who was still inclined to be chill with 
Arnold, followed them, and took up once more her place 
in the tent. Edith and Arnold remained behind for a 
time. 

“ I see,” said the maiden lady, “ that you observed my 
signal. Sit down, Arnold. I want to have a serious 
talk with you.” 

Arnold sat down obediently and waited. Edith drew 
a chair pretty close to his and laid a hand upon his arm. 

“ I am quite old enough, Arnold,” she began, “ to take 
elderly sisterly airs with you. I don’t want to waste 
time in beating about the bush ; and, above all things in 
the world, I hate hints and mysteries.” 

With this preamble, she began to speak in parables. 

“ There is a young clergyman, a friend of mine — in 
fact, a not very distant relative — who came down here 
last year. There was a young lady here at the same 
time, and I have every reason to believe that she and 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


71 


the young clergyman were beginning to be very seri- 
ously attached to each other. All on a sudden the young 
clergyman discovered that the lady was going, one of 
these days, to be an heiress, and, being himself an ab- 
surdly Quixotic and high-minded boy, he ran qway as 
soon as he could conveniently do it, and left the poor 
girl under the impression that she had somehow offended 
him. Now, if ever you should meet that young clergy- 
man, Arnold, I want you to tell him that he behaved 
very foolishly and rather badly.” 

“ I happen to know something of the circumstances 
of the case,” Arnold answered. He was blushing like a 
girl, and kept his eyes fixed upon the pattern of the car- 
pet. “ I happen to know that the young clergyman did 
the only wise and honorable thing he could do under 
the circumstances.” 

“ Hid the young lady decline to listen to him ?” 

“ No,” said Arnold, looking up for a moment. “ He 
never ran that risk.” 

“ Arnold, dear,” said the old maid, “ I think that he 
was very much in love with her.” 

“ Please say no more about it,” said Arnold, rising. 
“ If you asked me down here to say this to me I can’t 
do less than thank you for it, because I know you meant 
it kindly. If that young clergyman had any dreams he 
awoke from them last autumn, and is not likely to go to 
sleep in those delusions any more.” 

“ But if there were no delusions ?” the old maid an- 
swered him. “ Suppose the girl were wounded ?” 

“ There is no ground to suppose anything of the sort,” 
he said, with such a brusque decision that she was more 
than half afraid of him. 

“If I thought that,” she said, “I should be a very 
foolish and wicked woman to put these thoughts into 


1 2 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


your mind. I believe she cares still, and I am quite 
sure that she did care a little less than a year ago.” 

She was blushing now, and what with that, and a cer- 
tain humid brightness in her eyes, she looked quite young 
again, and almost pretty. 

“ I knew a girl,” she said, half between laughing and 
crying, but wholly doing neither — “ it is nearly twenty 
years since. A girl who would have given anything for 
somebody to do what I am doing now. But nobody did 
it, and the girl’s an old maid, my dear. Not unhappy, 
very far from being unhappy, but not nearly, oh, not 
nearly, so happy as she might have been.” 

Arnold stooped over her and kissed her, and she al- 
lowed her head to rest for a moment on his shoulder. 
Then she moved away, and having wiped her eyes, with 
a transparent make-believe of complete self-possession, 
she came back to him. 

“ I sha’n’t mend my cause in that way,” she said, “ I 
shall only make you think that I am a silly and senti- 
mental old woman.” 

“ I won’t deny,” said Arnold, looking away from her, 
and speaking with great slowness and deliberation, “ that 
I had begun to have some fancies. I won’t deny even 
that the fancies carried me a long way sometimes. I 
never spoke of this till now to a soul,” he interjected, 
abruptly, turning his eyes upon her, “ and never meant 
to.” 

“ I am sure of that,” said Edith. 

“ I do not think,” he went on deliberately again, “ that 
Miss Pharr ever cared at all. I suppose a man may 
speak of these things without being a contemptible cox- 
comb. I had what seemed to me good grounds for be- 
lieving that she did not care. But I should have tried 
my fortune if I hadn’t heard of hers.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 73 

“ Exactly. Silly fellow !” cried Edith. “ I was sure 
of it all along.” 

“But a woman,” Arnold went on, disregarding her 
interruption, “of her fortune, and with her worldly 
chances, can hardly be asked to bury herself in the East 
End of London, to live the life I live, and meet the peo- 
ple among whom I spend my days. I like my work so 
well that I won’t l^ve it for anything in the world. I 
have no right to ask a delicately nurtured woman to 
share it. In plain English, my dear Edith, the only fault 
I have been able to find in the character of the lady 
whose affairs I am so impertinently discussing, is that 
she has been a little spoiled. What some, women might 
endure with cheerfulness would be unbearable, even hor- 
rible, for her. Now let us go away and forget every- 
thing that has been said. That is the best thing we 
can do.” 

She would have urged him further, but he was so very 
resolute and quiet that she forbore, being afraid that if 
she went too far she might draw him into some declara- 
tion from which he would be unable to retire. She was 
too good a diplomatist to risk a permanent defeat when 
she could escape with a temporary one, and so she accepted 
the situation with the best grace she could command. 

They talked of commonplace things for a while, and 
then went out upon the lawn together. 

“ It is unreasonable,” Edith whispered to him as they 
emerged from the house, “ to be as chilly as you were 
this morning. She will think she has offended you.” 

This was not particularly subtle for a woman, but it 
was quite deep enough for Arnold, who fell headlong 
into the simple trap thus set for him, and straightway 
did his loyal best to be cordial. Miss Pharr thawed at 
once, and Edith, having established this preliminary foot- 


74 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


ing, left them to their own devices. She joined mamma, 
whose manner seemed to refrigerate the atmosphere of 
the tent. 

The elder lady dozed and the younger embroidered, 
for a sleepy hour or two. The trio on the lawn seemed 
to Edith to be engaged in conversation rather than in 
the manufacture of sun pictures ; and once, pulling the 
canvas wall of the tent slightly on o»e side, she saw them 
all seated idly together in the shadow of a giant beech. 
Elphinstone’s Scottish drawl sounded from the distance 
at which he sat like the hum of a slow-going bee. He 
seemed to be entertaining his listeners rarely, for Miss 
Pharr’s ready laugh rippled pretty often across the leis- 
urely hum of his speech. It was very hot indeed, and 
Mrs. Wyncott’s deep and regular breathing and the level 
murmur of the doctor’s voice had so soothing an influ- 
ence upon Edith’s nerves that she herself was startled 
from a doze by the voice of one of the maids. 

“If you please, miss,” said the maid, “Miss Pharr 
sends me to ask if you would like to have tea served on 
the lawn.” 

“Certainly,” she answered, waking up. “By all 
means.” 

The photographic apparatus was at work again, and 
this time the doctor had taken it in hand. Miss Pharr 
and Arnold were talking together with apparent natural- 
ness and ease. So Edith feigned her usual interest in 
art, and crossed over to ask if she could be of service to 
the doctor. 

“Ho, no,” said he. “This is a lettle challenge from 
Janet yonder, and I’m engaged sengle-handed. It’s a 
pairfect light for open-air work. The materials ought 
to be of the best, and I’m going to try to give her an 
ideal pecture.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


75 


The two maids came out, carrying the one a table, 
and the other a tray, and a page boy in the rear bore 
the tea-urn. 

“ Get away there to one side,” said Elphinstone, sol- 
emnly. “ Arrange your table yonder, oot o’ my line o’ 
sight, and let no one o’ ye cross it till I give the word.” 

The three domestics moved on stealthy tiptoe, and 
Mrs. Wyncott, waking from her doze, appeared at the 
door of the tent with a sun-shade. At the moment at 
which she stepped upon the lawn, “click” went the 
shutter of the camera, and Elphinstone turned upon Miss 
Pharr with a bow of triumph. 

“I thenk ye’ll find that right, Miss Janet,” the old 
man said, twinkling his brightest. 

“Very good,” said Miss Janet; “and now for my 
turn.” 

She set to work gayly, protesting that the light was fad- 
ing, and that the conditions of the combat were unfair. 

“ And mind you,” she declared, pretending to a grav- 
ity equal to Elphinstone’s own customary expression, “ I 
want that same perfect stillness which was exige — what 
is the English word ? — by you.” 

“Ye shall have it, Janet,” said the doctor. “ Let no 
living creature presume to stir, on pain o’ death.” 

Straightway everybody went silent, and the domestics 
posed sheepishly, under the impression that they were 
about to have their portraits taken. The page boy’s 
grin was ghastly, but the aspect of the country maids 
was not untouched by coquetry. 

There was a pause of a minute or two, in which Miss 
Pharr alone made any movement. She skipped hither 
and thither with a face of severe importance and deter- 
mination. Finally the shutter of the camera clicked 
again. 


76 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“ Folks are once more at leberty to breathe,” said the 
doctor, and all the pent-up stream of life moved on 
again. “ Ye’re quite right, Miss Janet Pharr, in declar- 
ing that this is no fair competition,” he added, twinkling 
again. “ Ye’ve stolen my focus.” 

Miss Pharr herself was already moving across the 
lawn towards the house, but she turned at this to wave 
a threatening forefinger at him. 

“ Tea, Janet,” cried Mrs. Wyncott. 

“Yes,” she answered, dancing backward with both 
hands in the air. “ I must wash my hands. Don’t wait 
for me. I’ll be down in a moment.” 

With that she turned and darted towards the house, 
and only a minute later, if so much, there was heard a 
most prodigious and unwonted shrill clatter of a bell, and 
then a clash of metal, which told that the bell itself had 
fallen upon the oaken floor of the hall. Almost before 
anybody could express a wonder as to what this might 
mean, Miss Pharr appeared at one of the windows of her 
bed-chamber, and seemed to struggle frantically to open 
it. When she had succeeded, she thrust out her head 
and shoulders, and cried, in an agitated voice, 

“ Arnold ! Edith ! My jewels !” 

Arnold, Edith, and the doctor all ran towards the 
house, leaving Mrs. Wyncott terror-stricken, and as if 
rooted to the lawn. Arnold was naturally foremost, 
and as he rushed up-stairs he caught a momentary sight 
of a dark-haired, dark-eyed girl, with a face as white as 
marble. She was clinging to the jamb of the door at 
the entrance to Miss Pharr’s chamber, and she wore a 
look of awful terror. She and Arnold catching sight 
of each other at the same instant of time, she slipped 
swiftly into the room, and when he in turn entered she 
was standing before Miss Pharr. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


77 


“ My jewels !” cried the heiress. “ My jewels ! They 
have stolen my jewels.” 

The girl’s glance travelled slowly across the wall 
with such a look of being drawn by some horrible 
fascination that Arnold could but follow it. Before 
he could well decide at what she was looking, she gave 
a gasping cry, and fell prone upon the floor. Her head 
came in contact with the fender, and she lay like a 
corpse. 

Miss Pharr, forgetting even her jewels for the instant, 
darted forward with a cry of dismay and knelt by the 
side of her maid. Arnold wound his arms about the re- 
cumbent figure and lifted it. The girl’s head fell back 
nervelessly as he did so, and at that moment the doctor 
entered the room with disturbed breath and hurried and 
ungainly gestures. 

“ What’s this ?” he said, pantingly. “ Violence ?” 

He snatched two or three towels from the toilet-rail, 
spread out some of them upon the pillow of the bed, and 
assisted Arnold in laying down the unconscious figure. 
Then he dexterously undid the great knot of the girl’s 
hair, and asked, business-like, for a sponge. Miss Wyn- 
cott, who had followed immediately upon the doctor’s 
heels, began to scream hysterically at the sight of blood, 
and Elphinstone, turning to Miss Pharr, who stood pale 
and trembling by his side, said calmly : 

“ Don’t let Miss Wyncott do herself a damage, Janet, 
Take her away and keep her quiet. Send me a few large 
handkerchiefs and a pair of scissors.” 

Janet obeyed. The two maids and the page boy were 
standing in the corridor in a frightened group, and as 
she passed them she gave one of them orders to wait 
upon the doctor. 

“ Can I be of use, Dr. Elphinstone ?” Arnold asked. 


78 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“Yes, sir,” said Elphinstone. “You can hold your 
tongue. Gi’ me that basin o’ water. Hold it so.” 

The girl had fallen upon an almost knifelike edge of 
the polished steel fender, and had received a serious 
wound. It bled copiously, and for a time it was impos- 
sible to ascertain clearly its character and dimensions ; 
but when one of the maids had brought the scissors 
Elphinstone had asked for, he shore away the great folds 
of hair, and examined the injury critically. 

“ What’s this cry about the jewels ?” he asked, when 
he had succeeded in checking the hemorrhage by the 
application of a cold-water compress. 

“I know nothing,” Arnold answered, “except that 
Miss Pharr declares them to be stolen. Are they of 
great value ?” 

“ Yalue ?” returned Elphinstone. “ They’re worth be- 
twixt thirty and forty thousand pounds. The patient 
’ll do for a while,” he added. “ Here you, Harriet. Set 
ye down here, and give your friend a wheff of the salts 
now and again.” 

“ I suppose,” said Arnold, “ that this is the cupboard 
from which they were stolen.” 

He and the doctor crossed the room together, and in- 
spected the recess he indicated. The door of the cup- 
board lay upon the floor, and the framework, painted 
and varnished in imitation of ebony, stared white where 
the hinges had been wrenched away. In the very cen- 
tre of the framework on that side was a square flat bruise 
in the wood, and Arnold laid a finger on it. 

“ Ay !” said the doctor. “ That’s where the lever went 
in. It took a strongish hand to do that piece o’ work.” 

“Well, sir,” said Arnold, “we can do no good by 
standing here. It will be best to send a message to the 
police authorities in London without loss of time.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


79 


“ I think you may take that upon yourself, Mr. Esden,” 
the old man answered ; “ and if there should be any need 
for it, I’ll share the responsibility.” 

So arranged, so done. Arnold ran full-tilt to the village 
post-office, and thence despatched a message — “ Within 
last few hours, jewels value thirty thousand pounds have 
been stolen from Hill House, Wootton Hill, Kent. Send 
experienced detective immediately.” 

Until now he had not had a second in which to think 
clearly, but as he walked slowly back the horror-stricken 
face he had seen at the top of the stairs intruded itself 
upon his mind. The expression it had worn made it 
memorable, and it hung before his thoughts as a lifelike 
pictured semblance of it might have hung before his 
eyes. Was it a face of guilt ? he asked again and again, 
and an undertone in his thoughts always answered “Ho.” 
Yet, apart from guilt, he could discover no reason for 
the monstrous agitation under which the wearer of such 
an expression must have labored. He wondered if a 
woman’s hand could have wrenched the door away, or if 
the maid might have been an accomplice in the act. In 
his excited thoughts he felt a sort of pity for her before- 
hand, a pity both for her guilt and for its inevitable dis- 
covery, even while he admitted that he had no reason- 
able ground for suspecting her. 

In this frame of mind he reached the house. He found 
everybody unexpectedly tranquil there. The old lady, 
her daughter, Miss Pharr, and the doctor, were all gath- 
ered together awaiting his return. They were all very 
quiet, and the three ladies wore something of an awe- 
struck air. 

“Ye’ll have your jewels back again, Janet,” said El- 
phinstone, when Arnold had recited his message, “it’s 
a thousand to one.” The discovery happened too close 


80 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


upon the theft. “It appears” — he turned upon Arnold 
with this intelligence — “that one o’ the maids was in 
Miss Pharr’s room ten minutes before she herself went 
up. Everything was in order then, and so the thief had 
no great time to get to any distance. They’ll lay hands 
upon him, never fear.” 

“ And some poor wretch,” cried Janet, “ will be sent 
to prison through my pride and folly. I would a thou- 
sand times sooner have lost them in any other way.” 

“Ma dear,” said the old doctor, soothingly, “that’s 
just a piece of tender-hearted nonsense. Ef a man can’t 
refrain himself from knocking me on the head because 
I’ve a purse in my pocket and a watch in my fob, there’s 
not the least little bit o’ moral oblequity in my carrying 
them, and the scoundrel that has that murderous envy 
of them has got to be put away for the safety o’ society.” 

But Janet was not to be consoled by this obvious so- 
cial philosophy, and was in genuine and deep distress at 
the result of her own rashness. Mrs. Wyncott and Edith 
alike forebore to upbraid her, though the temptation to 
say, “ I told you so,” burned in the soul of either. 

“ How, ladies,” said Elphinstone, “ in the natural ex- 
citement of the time, the five o’clock has been forgotten. 
I’m not going to have three patients on my hands, and 
I’ll just take the liberty of ordering tea. That on the 
lawn will be cold and useless by this time.” 

Hobody dissented, and tea being ordered and brought, 
they sat sipping it in a doleful silence, when a sharp ring 
at the hall bell startled the ladies into a simultaneous 
exclamation. They had scarcely calmed themselves 
when one of the maids appeared. 

“A gentleman from Scotland Yard, ma’am, Mr. 
Prickett.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


81 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The doctor rose to his feet and ran out into the hall, 
and there upon the door-mat stood a stranger, who nhrsed . 
a very lustrous silk hat tenderly by the brim, and ex- 
amined the hall as if he were a builder with a contract 
to erect another on a similar pattern. 

“ Mr. Prickett?” said the doctor, as he advanced tow- 
ards him. 

“ The same, sir,” Prickett answered. 

“ Ye’re here before ye were expected. I had not an- 
ticipated so much despatch.” 

“I happened to be at the Yard when the telegram 
came in, and I found a train at Charing Cross in a 
quarter of an hour.” 

“I’m very glad ye’re here,” returned Elphinstone. 

“ Come this way, and I’ll introduce ye to the lady that 
owns the stolen property.” 

Mr. Prickett followed him into the drawing-room, and 
distributed four crisply amiable nods. 

“ Good-afternoon, sir, Your servant, ladies.” 

Mr. Prickett had one peculiarity — a calmly wandering 
glance, which appeared to be governed by system. It 
travelled over every article in the room, lingering no- 
where, and missing nothing, and in the same quiet fash- 
ion touched every face, and every detail of costume and 
personal adornment. 

“ This is Miss Pharr,” said the doctor, “ the owner of 
the jewels.” 


82 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“ Could have wished,” said Mr. Prickett, with perfect 
respectfulness, “ to have met Miss Pharr under pleasanter 
circumstances.” 

“ Will you take a seat, sir ?” said the old lady. “ A 
most dreadful thing has happened, and I am sure that 
though one reads of them in the newspapers they never 
really come home to one’s feelings until — ” 

“ Exactly, madam,” Mr. Prickett interposed. “ That is 
the general experience. Now, suppose, sir, to begin with, 
I was to be allowed to ask a question. Have you got 
anything to show me ! Is there any breakage !” 

“ I must show this gentleman to your chamber, Miss 
Pharr,” the doctor said, half apologetically. 

“ We’ll go with you,” Janet responded. 

“The fewer the better,” said Elphinstone. “Ye 
mustn’t forget that Grainger lies hurt there. That’s a 
matter that may concern ye to know, Mr. Prickett,” he 
continued, as he led the detective from the room. “ I’ll 
explain it later. I’ll ask ye to tread softly, and not to 
talk in the chamber unless it’s needful.” 

The room reached, Elphinstone signalled the breakage 
by a mere motion of the forefinger, and the other, ap- 
proaching the cupboard on tiptoe, scrutinized the frac- 
tures closely. Next, he picked up the door, which lay 
where it had fallen, and having examined that in turn, 
laid it down and stole out noiselessly. The two re- 
turned to the drawing-room, and the detective, politely 
waiting until the old gentleman was seated, resumed his 
place. 

“ There’s one thing certain, ladies and gentlemen,” he 
said. “ It’s no professional work. Amateur, I should 
call it, and clumsy for that. Hopelessly amateur. The 
next thing is as near as may be to fix the time when it 
was done.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


83 


“ It was done,” said Arnold, “ betweeh ten minutes to 
five and five o’clock.” 

“ Come,” said Prickett, turning his calmly observant 
eye upon him. “ That’s something, sir. How might you 
have come to know that ?” 

Arnold, it appeared, had consulted his watch at the 
moment at which Miss Pharr left the lawn. The maid 
who had last entered Miss Pharr’s bedroom could fix 
the hour with almost equal accuracy. Tea had been 
ordered for five o’clock, and she had noticed the time 
before going up-stairs. 

Within the space of a quarter of an hour Mr. Prickett, 
by dint of judicious inquiry, had made himself acquainted 
with the name, age, and antecedents of every domestic 
employed in or about the house. Butler and cook were 
man and wife, and had gone away that morning by 
their mistress’s permission to attend a wedding in the 
neighboring village of Hemsleigh. The two maids and 
the page-boy had been upon the lawn for the greater 
part of the fateful ten minutes. The only person known 
to have been in the house during that time was the 
maid Grainger, and she at present was not in a condition 
to be interrogated. 

“ I altogether refuse to suspect Grainger,” Janet said, 
warmly. “ Her parents are most respectable people, and 
she was highly recommended to me by Lady Hilton.” 

“Well, don’t you see, miss,” said Mr. Prickett, per- 
suasively, “ it’s only fair to the young woman that the 
circumstances should be inquired into. What we’ve got 
to do is to clear the poor thing’s character. It might 
be flung in her face in ten years’ time, as she was the 
only young person known to be in the house when this 
job was done. Where might she be supposed to be if 
she was in the house at the time ?” 


84 


A DANGEROUS CATSFAW. 


“ She would probably be in her own bedroom,” Janet 
answered. 

Learning that the maid’s bedroom was in the same 
corridor with Miss Pharr’s and nearly facing it, Mr. 
Prickett mused awhile. 

“ That there black oak flooring,” he said, “is very talk- 
ative. I noticed that myself. She’d be likely to hear 
anybody as went by. Suppose she did that, she might 
ha’ put two and two together when she heard about the 
robbery, and that might be what frightened her. You 
see, miss,” added Mr. Prickett, with a saponaceous 
smoothness, “ if she said to herself, ‘ Now, that’s a stran- 
ger’s footstep, and I ought to go out and see who’s there ;’ 
and then if, on top of that, she said to herself, ‘ Rubbish ! 
It’s broad daylight, and I’m getting nervous,’ that might 
account for her tumbling down in such a startling way 
when she heard as the jewels was gone.” 

Janet accepted this solution with warmth, and began 
to think highly of Mr. Prickett’s powers of discernment. 
But that wily personage had noticed that the mistress was 
disposed to take up the maid’s cause in something of a 
partisan spirit, and was simply smoothing his way for 
future inquiries. 

At his own request he was allowed to inspect all pos- 
sible means of egress and ingress, and, still with a view to 
clearing Grainger’s character, was permitted to overhaul 
her belongings. Finding nothing which was of the 
slightest service to his inquiry, he returned to the draw- 
ing-room, and gave a judicial summing up of the case. 

“ Now, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “ this is what 
it comes to. So far as we know at present, the two Miss 
Wades, the young ladies visiting here at the time and 
since gone away, Mr. Wyncott* Esden, barrister-at-law, 
absent all afternoon in London, and the present company 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


85 


(with the exception of this reverend gentleman), was the 
only people aware of the existence of this valuable prop- 
erty. It seems that all of you was allowed to know 
where the jewels was kept, and, so far as you can tell, 
nobody else knew a word about it. It seems further,” 
he continued, with a quiet legal relish, “ as on the even- 
ing when the jewels was shown the lamps was lighted, 
and this window, which I notice to be a French window, 
opening all the way down, was open. The value of the 
jewels was talked about, and maybe the talk was over- 
heard. Maybe, again, somebody broke confidence, and 
spoke about the things. All these considerations has 
got to be looked at. It’s a great pity as we can’t have 
a bit of a talk with this young woman. She might 
throw a light on the case. I understand you, sir, to be 
a medical gentleman, and, so soon as you give me leave 
to do it, I must ask her a question or two.” 

“ I’ll see her at once,” said Elphinstone. 

“ I’m sorry,” resumed Mr. Prickett, when the doctor had 
gone away, “ very sorry, as Mr. Wyncott Esden chanced to 
be absent when this thing occurred. I’ve had the honor of 
being professionally associated with Mr. Wyncott Esden 
on one or two occasions, and I don’t know a smarter 
gentleman sit the bar. These sort of things is like every- 
thing else in one respect. Amateur work is pretty near- 
ly always loose, and that isn’t so true of anything as it 
is of amateur observation. With a trained mind on the 
spot an hour before I got here — Lord ! you don’t know 
what it might ha’ done. Where could the thief ha’ got 
to in ten minutes’ time? Why, Mr. Wyncott Esden 
would ha’ been at the railway stations in the neighbor- 
hood. He’d ha’ been down to the local police, he’d ha’ 
made inquiries about suspicious strangers, and might ha’ 
laid hands on the man before he could ha’ got five miles 


86 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


away by train. Between the time that job was done 
and now, ladies, six trains has left this neighborhood, 
two east, and one west at Hemsleigh J unction, and two 
down, and one up at Wootton Hill. You mightn’t ha’ 
wanted me if Mr. Wyncott Esden had been here on a 
hot scent like that.” 

Even in her agitation and distress the old lady experi- 
enced a momentary gratification as Mr. Prickett chanted 
the praises of her favorite nephew. She was glad that 
Janet should hear them. Mr. Prickett’s speech helped 
to show the high consideration in which Wyncott was 
held by those who were in a position to appreciate his 
talents. 

While Prickett was still talking, the doctor returned, 
with his ordinary expression of gravity increased ten- 
fold. 

“ Ye can see the gyurl, Mr. Preckett,” he said, “ but 
I’m sorely afraid ye’ll make nothing out of her. Ye’d 
better come up-stairs with me at once. Ye’ll have to be 
very quaiet and soothing with her,” he added, turning 
upon the detective when they were half-way up-stairs to- 
gether. “ It’s only in view of the extreme importance 
of the case that I allow ye to see her at all.” 

“You can trust me, sir,” responded Prickett. “I 
sha’n’t frighten her. That’s no part of my business.” 

One of the servants sat by Grainger’s side nursing a 
bottle of smelling-salts with a vague air of business. 
The doctor dismissed her with a word. Grainger was 
seated in an arm-chair by the window in an attitude al- 
together listless and feeble. Her tumbled hair and the 
white bandage about her head gave her a somewhat 
ghastly look, and her large dark eyes followed the move- 
ments of her visitors with a solicitude which was at 
singular variance with her aspect of bodily fatigue. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


87 


“ This is a gentleman,” said Elphinstone, bending over 
her gently, and speaking with such a slow distinctness as 
he would have employed in addressing a foreigner who 
was but imperfectly acquainted with English — ‘ this is a 
gentleman who has come down from London on purpose 
to make inquiries about the event of this afternoon.” 

Grainger looked from the doctor’s face to Prickett’s, 
and back again with what seemed to both of them like 
a despairing challenge. 

“ You seem to have had rather an ugly accident,” said 
Mr. Prickett, soothingly. “ Now, don’t you go and over- 
exert yourself. I just want to ask you a question or 
two, and if you don’t feel strong enough to be talked to 
now, why, I’ll come up again in the morning. Now, did 
you happen, miss, to see anything, or hear anything, that 
gave you a bit of a turn ?” 

Grainger answered with a look of dreadful eagerness ; 
but her speech was altogether unintelligible, a mere col- 
lection of inarticulate sounds. She seemed to read in 
Prickett’s face the fact that she was not understood, and 
glanced from him to the doctor. 

“Now,” said Elphinstone, “ye’re suffering from a 
very considerable shock. Ye’re not to agitate yourself, 
but ye don’t speak plainly. Just try again. Yery slow- 
ly, and as destenctly as ye can.” 

She spoke again, the same incomprehensible brash of 
syllables. Prickett looked at the doctor with a little in- 
credulous shake of the head; but Elphinstone warned 
him w T ith a forefinger, and, producing a note-book from 
his pocket, opened it at a blank page, and laid it in the 
girl’s hand. 

“Just write that down for us,” he said 2 offering her a 
pencil. 

She looked wonderingly at him, and then, taking the 


88 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


pencil, wrote slowly and painstakingly, like a child who 
is just learning to form letters. When she had finished, 
the doctor took the note-book, and after a glance at it 
handed it to Prickett. The two lines she had written 
ran thus : 

“ D gha wn nt tuldvrm rtt tie mire vbt hemtt buturng.” 

The officer’s opinion was that the girl was shamming, 
and he wondered at the doctor’s patience and gentle- 
ness. 

“ I’ll not trouble you to talk any more,” said Elphin- 
stone. “ Just give me a sign, yes or no. Were you in 
the house when Miss Pharr rang her bell ?” 

The maid signalled “ Yes.” 

“ In your own bedroom ?” 

She signalled “ Yes” again. 

“ D’ye think ye’d been there for the last ten minutes ?” 

The signal was repeated, this time with energy. 

“ More than that ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Did you hear any sounds of footsteps, or any sound 
of breaking wood, or anything to excite suspicion ?” 

A decided shake of the head in answer, accompanied 
by a look of terror. 

“ There’s nothing to be done at present,” said Elphin- 
stone, and Prickett followed him obediently from the 
room, though he cast a glance or two at the girl in 
retiring. 

“ That’s a pretty shallow style of humbug, ain’t it, 
sir ?” he asked, turning on the doctor in the corridor. 

“ It’s a not uncommon, but very obscure form of ner- 
vous disorder,” said Elphinstone, “ and, as far as I can 
judge at present, a case o’ great deffeculty. It’s a case 
o’ severe nairvous. shock, resulting in a complication of 
agraphia and aphasia.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


89 


“ You don’t think the young woman’s shamming, sir ?” 
asked Prickett. 

“I’m sure she’s not. The cleverest actress in the 
world couldn’t sham it.” 

“ Would you mind giving me those names again, sir ?” 
The doctor repeated the words to him, and Mr. Prickett 
whispered them thoughtfully to himself as he walked 
down-stairs, “ aphasia, agraphia, agraphia, aphasia.” 

“ Do you think it’s likety to last long, sir ?” he asked. 
“ That girl knows something. She’s got something on 
her mind.” 

“ The disorder’s not often pairmanent,” said Elphin- 
stone, “ when the pashint’s under forty, and can both read 
and write, hut how long it may last is just beyond any 
man’s saying. Ye must wait, my man.” 

Arnold and the three ladies waited anxiously in the 
drawing-room, but the doctor as yet said nothing of the 
maid’s condition, beyond remarking that she was not in 
a state to be closely questioned. 

“ I suppose,” said Prickett, “ that the village police 
know all about the case ?” 

“No, sir,” returned the doctor. “We’ve refrained 
ourselves from troubling the lockle-yockle.” 

“ The what, sir ?” 

“ The local yokel, sir,” returned Elphinstone, with an 
almost angry distinctness.. “The one member of the 
ceevil force in Wootton Hill might make a decent gate- 
post if ye planted him, though, if he’s good for any oth- 
er mortal theng, his Maker has seen fit to make a mys- 
tery of it. Ye remember, Arnold, that pony o’ mine — 
but I’ll hot talk o’ that at a time like this. I’ll swear 
’twas that jepsy tinker blackgyard that stole ’m, but 
yon ox went off on a false scent, and — I’ll not talk 
about a loss like that at such a time.” 


90 


A DANGEROUS GATSPAW. 


“I’d better see the man, sir,” said the detective. 
“He’ll be able to tell me if any strangers have been 
hanging round, perhaps; and while I’m away, miss, 
there’s one thing you can do as will be of the greatest 
value. I shall want you, if you please, to draw up as 
full and complete a description of these here gems as 
you can manage.” 

“ Oh,” cried Janet, “ I can give you everything about 
them at once. My uncle had a catalogue of the jewels 
printed only a few months before his death. I have 
quite a number of copies, and you can have as many as 
are necessary.” 

“ That’s lucky,” said Prickett. “ I’ll take four of ’em, 
if you please — one for myself, one for the Yard, and one 
apiece for the two big Press Agencies.” 

Mrs. Wyncott made an exclamation of dismay. 

“ Dear me ! Will it get into the newspapers ?” 

“ Why, yes, ma’am,” returned Mr. Prickett, “ and a 
very good thing too. Every pawnbroker in the country, 
every honest dealer in gems, and every lapidary who 
works on the square, all England through, will be on 
our side to-morrow, and on the lookout for the thief. 
If you’d kindly let me have the catalogues at once, I’d 
send three of ’em up to town by the guard of the next 
train.” 

Janet tore up-stairs, and returned in a minute or two 
breathlessly, bearing a number of pamphlets in her 
hand. 

“ I suppose,” said Prickett, taking up one of them 
and glancing over its contents, “ that this doesn’t include 
a description of your personal jewelry, miss ?” 

“Ho,” said Janet, eagerly. “But I can write that 
out for you.” 

“ Do, if you please,” he answered. “ That’s likeliest to 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


91 


be offered first. In fact, that may be in the hands of 
the pawnbrokers already, just dropped here and there, 
in little parcels like. And now, sir,” turning gravely 
upon the doctor, “if you’d be so good as to direct me, 
I’ll take a look at the local yokel.” 

Arnold undertook to guide him to the police station, 
and the two set out together. 

“ You take no notes?” said Arnold, more for the sake 
of saying something than because he was interested. 

“Well, as a matter of fact, sir,” responded Mr. 
Prickett, “ a man in my line has got to spend his time 
in taking notes, but I don’t find as I need trouble to 
write ’em down.” 

“ Don’t you find that your memory betrays you 
sometimes ?” 

“ Ho,” said Prickett, reflectively, “ I don’t think it 
ever did, sir. The major part of people ruins their 
memories with reading novels and songs and trash. 
There’s a chap at the Yard as can recite by the hour. 
I should think as he knows Lord Byron from beginning 
to end, but his head’s that full of that kind of tack 
there’s no room in it for anything else. You tell him 
what time a train starts, tell him what complexion a 
man’s got, tell him what heighth he is, show him the 
plan of a building. If he don’t write down what you 
tell him he’ll be in a fog about it in twenty minutes. 
Many’s the time I’ve told him: ‘If you’d leave the 
wheels inside your head-piece free to act, you’d make a 
first-rate officer, but you clogs ’em up with all them 
treacly verses, and what d’ye expect ?’ ” 

“ Do you never read at all, then ?” asked Arnold, be- 
ginning to be interested. 

“Criminal cases,” responded Mr. Prickett. “Law 
reports. Takes a look at the advertisements in the 


92 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


Daily Telegraph sometimes. Ye see, sir,” he continued, 
growing suddenly warm and confidential, and laying a 
gloved forefinger lightly on his companion’s arm, “all 
day long the inside of a man’s head is like a piece of 
machinery in motion. It’s bound to go, and it must 
have something to work at. How, when I went into 
the force, sir, I made up my mind as I wasn’t going to 
stop on the bottom rung of the ladder all my life, and I 
says to myself, ‘ How, what’s the first thing wanted to 
make a tip-top officer?’ I wasn’t long in making up 
my mind. He’s got to be notice-taking more than any 
other man alive, and he’s never got to forget any person 
or any thing as he’s once^ set eyes on. When I was on 
duty in the Strand — I was there for the best part of 
three years. — I used to practise myself watching faces 
in the street. I spotted a man only yesterday that I 
see go by me seven years ago. I never see him before 
nor since, till yesterday, and I could ha’ picked him out 
among a million. You tell that to some folks, and they’d 
think it was a lie, but it’s just as true as gospel. Leave 
books alone, keep your head clear and your eyes open, 
and when you look at a thing, look at it. That’s the 
secret, if there is one. 

“ Don’t you think, sir,” continued Mr. Prickett, who 
had evidently mounted his pet hobby — “ don’t you think 
as I’m such a fool as to despise book-learning. If I 
should live to be old-aged, and can afford the time, I 
mean to have a real burst at it, but just now I’ve got 
my way to make, and I can’t afford it.” 

“ I suppose,” said Arnold, “ that you don’t mean to 
say that you never forget anything you have seen ?” 

“Well, no, sir,” returned the theorist, “I don’t say 
that, of course. But I never forget anything I’ve looked 
at. You’ll notice, sir, that most people see things with- 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


93 


out taking the trouble to look at ’em, and so they don’t 
rightly remember the things as ought to be most famil- 
iar. Now, for instance, sir, you ought to know that 
room we’ve been sitting in a good deal better than I do. 
I’m not bragging, but I’ll bet you don’t.” 

“ Well,” said Arnold, “ let us see.” 

“ Carpet,” said Prickett, as if he were dictating an 
inventory to a shorthand clerk — “ Brussels, whitish 
ground, sprinkled with largish roses. Wall-paper same 
shade as carpet, diamond pattern in dull gold. Facing 
door, water- color: girl crossing stream on stepping- 
stone, making signs to little chap on bank. Over door, 
water-color : old gentleman, knee-breeches, reading book 
in a wood. Twelve chairs, various — four easy, three 
spider-legged, in gold. Little round-topped table near 
window, microscope on it, and a bracket full o’ books : 
Tennyson’s poems, green and gold, seven vollums ; 4 Im- 
itation of Christ,’ white vellum, gold letters ; foreign 
book in a yellow cover, don’t know the name ; 4 Leaders 
from the Times] two vollums, name of Phillips. Little 
cabinet in the corner, seven drawers, key in the middle 
drawer, basket of flowers and lady’s photo on top. Chim- 
ley ornaments Dresden china, stag with antlers caught 
in a tree, left antler broke — ” 

“I will not compete with you, Mr. Prickett,” said 
Arnold. 

The sun had fallen behind the hill by this time, and 
the whole landscape before them lay in the gentle and 
equable light which was reflected from the eastern skies. 
Everything was so still that the sounds of life in the 
yet distant village were clearly audible — the crack of a 
carter’s whip, his long-drawn cry to his team, the very 
tramp of the horses and complaining of the creaking 
wheels. A hundred yards away, beyond the turning of 


94 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


the road, there was the sound of a swift but equal foot- 
step, and as they neared the turning Wyncott Esden 
rounded it, walking rapidly, and swinging a black dress- 
ing-case in his hand. Seeing them, he checked his foot- 
steps for a mere second, and then came on again. 

“ Hillo, Prickett,” he said, in a hearty voice, “ what 
brings you in this part of the world ?” 


CHAPTER IX. 

There was a low stone wall running by the side of 
the road, and Wyncott, hearing the news, put out his 
hands towards it as if he felt he needed its support. 
For a second he glared rather wildly from his cousin to 
the detective, and then tilting back his hat and passing 
his hand across his forehead, recovered himself from his 
amazement. 

“ That’s pretty bold work,” he said, “ isn’t it, Prickett? 
You’ve had more experience than I have, of course, but 
I never heard of anything like it. You have lost no 
time, either.” 

“ Well, no, sir,” said Prickett, mildly. “ I don’t let 
the grass grow under me oftener than I can help.” 

“ You’ll make any use of me you can, Prickett,” said 
the barrister. 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Prickett. “ I shall be very 
pleased to have your help, sir.” 

He sketched briefly what had been learned already, 
and Wyncott listened keenly. 

“ Well, now,” he said at the end of Prickett’s state- 
ment, “let us divide our forces. You go and question 
Badge, and I’ll go back to the railway station and make 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


95 


inquiries there. Or, look here, Arnold, you go to the 
station here, and I’ll walk over to Hemsleigh and make 
inquiries there. It’s a pity these things weren’t done at 
once. By this time the thief may be in Birmingham, 
or at Dover. You never saw the case in which the 
jewels were held, did you ? It was about the size of a 
sheet of large post quarto, and four, or perhaps five, 
inches in depth. A man couldn’t carry it about under 
his coat without bulging suspiciously. He might carry 
it openly, or he might carry it in a bag, or he might 
carry it like a commonplace newspaper parcel, or rolled 
up in a coat, or in any one of fifty ways. The main 
thing is a stranger with a parcel, by the first train he 
could possibly catch after five o’clock. You might put 
the station master on to make inquiries at the next two 
or three stations each way. I’ll do the same at Hems- 
leigh. How, where shall we meet again?” 

“I left my bag at the Angler’s Best as I came 
along,” said Prickett. “ Pleasant-looking little sort of 
house. Perhaps you might meet me there, gentlemen, 
when you’ve made your inquiries. If you will allow 
me, Mr. Esden, I’ll leave your bag there.” 

“ All right,” said Esden, surrendering it. “ I’ll be back 
in an hour. I shall expect to see you there too, Arnold.” 

He was off at a swift and resolute pace, and Prickett 
stood for a moment to look after him. 

“ That’s the exact line I told you, sir,” he said, “ that 
Mr. Wyncott Esden would have taken in a minute if 
he’d been on the spot. That’s the line that ought to 
have been taken.” 

“ I suppose it is,” Arnold answered, somewhat de- 
spondently. 

“ Oh, I shouldn’t think, sir,” said Prickett, “ of blam- 
ing myself, if I was you. That sort o’ thing doesn’t 


96 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


come in your line, sir ; and you don’t seem to have lost 
a minute in getting the news off to the Yard. It was 
hardly to be expected as you should, start an inquiry on 
your own account.” 

From the moment when Prickett had first suggested 
Wyncott’s probable lines of action, Arnold had blamed 
himself for not adopting them, but every man’s experi- 
ence is full of memories of lost opportunities. When it 
is too late to do a thing it is irritating to see how ob- 
viously it ought to have been done. The young clergy- 
man went off crestfallen to his talk with the station 
master. Neither he nor Prickett found anything which 
could be of advantage to their quest, and when Wyncott 
joined them he had the same story of a blind trail. 

The detective had ordered dinner for himself, and was 
engaged with a perfect philosophic phlegm over a round 
of cold boiled beef and a jug of home-brewed ale. 

“ That looks appetizing, Prickett,” said Wyncott. “ I 
think I’ll join you.” 

“The pickles, sir,” said Mr. Prickett, exploring the 
pickle-jar in search of a chosen morsel, “is excellent. 
Country-made pickles is always the best, except when 
the yokels takes to boiling ha’pence with ’em to make 
’em green.” 

“ I’ll join too,” said Arnold, “ I am hungry, and we 
shall save them trouble at the house. Dinner is over 
there by this time, if they have had heart to take it.” 

The three sat and ate together, until Wyncott, sud- 
denly pushing his plate away, began to pace up and 
down the room. 

“ Prickett,” he said, “ I have an idea. I think it very 
possible that we may get the stolen property back again.” 

“That’s a thing to be wished for,” said Prickett, 
tentatively. 


A DANGEROUS CATS PAW. 


97 


“ Miss Pharr’s private jewelry,” said Esden, “ might 
pawn, perhaps, for a couple of hundred pounds. I’m not 
much of a judge in such matters, but I’ve seen it, and 
I don’t think it is likely to have cost more than six hun- 
dred when it was bought. There are a lot of rare coins 
in the case which are almost priceless to people who 
know their value, but there isn’t fifty pounds’ worth of 
metal in the collection. Every one of them is famous, 
more or less, and they’re only good as old gold to the 
thief. The gems are all uncut, and to take them to a 
lapidary, so as to fit them for the market, would be tre- 
mendously risky and expensive. The lapidary would 
certainly want to go shares, and then you know what 
gems in dishonest hands go for when they come to be 
sold.” 

“ That’s how I always look at thieving,” said Prickett, 
picking his teeth with a penknife, and reclining in his 
chair with an air of after-dinner contentment. “ It’s a 
depreciation of the value of property. If I was a thief 
I shouldn’t steal nothing but sovereigns. It’s a dread- 
ful loss to the party robbed, and it’s the smallest possi- 
ble gain to the thief. It’s a poor game. I always come 
to the conclusion that if a man does it he’s got a hole 
in his intellect somewhere. Show me a thief, and I’ll 
show you a born fool. Any way, it’s a trade. as no man 
o’ sense ever stopped in.” 

“Well, now,” said Esden, who had endured this in- 
terruption patiently, “ it seems to me that if this theft 
has not been committed, as it may have been, in the 
hope of a thumping reward, a reward may at least per- 
suade the gentry who are in it to return the property.” 

“ That looks a bit like compounding a felony, Mr. 
Esden,” said Prickett. 

“ Well, yes,” Wyncott admitted. “ It does, a little. 

7 


98 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


What did you tell me,” touching Prickett lightly on the 
shoulder — “ what did you tell me was Dr. IJlphinstone’s 
estimate of the value of the gems 

“ Why, sir,” returned Prickett, “ he reckoned the whole 
boiling of ’em at between thirty and forty thousand 
pounds.” 

“ Call it thirty,” said Esden. “ Take the lower fork 
of the estimate, and call it thirty. If you were in Miss 
Pharr’s place, do you think that your sense of public 
duty would be strong enough to prevent you from saving 
nine and twenty thousand ? Eh ?” 

Mr. Prickett smiled slowly. 

“Well, sir,” he said, “perhaps it wouldn’t. I don’t 
know as I should be going too fur if I was to say as my 
sense of public duty might go to pieces afore an economy 
a quarter of that size. That isn’t the Yard doctrine, as 
you know, Mr. Esden, but simply speaking like a mortal 
man.” 

“ Precisely,” said Esden. “ But the authorities couldn’t 
object to a reward of a thousand pounds being offered.” 

“ Of course not,” Prickett answered. “ In a case like 
this a thief has got to trust a lot of people, and the big- 
ger the reward the likelier some one of ’em is to round 
on him. A thousand’s a bit too much, though. Five 
hundred would work it.” 

“ Five hundred might induce an accomplice to split,” 
said Wyncott, “but a thousand might tempt the thief 
himself. Miss Pharr’s chief anxiety will be to have the 
jewels back again. Of course this is all between our- 
selves, Prickett. We’re talking like men of the world 
now, and not like a pair of professional thief-catchers. 
I haven’t had a chance of speaking to Miss Pharr, but 
I’m pretty certain that that is what sh b desires, and if 
I were you,” said Esden, with a return of his old sly 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


99 


smile, “ I shouldn’t object to the size of the reward. 
You may nail the man before he can make up his mind.” 

Prickett sat smiling, as if the prospect pleased him. 
Then he sighed, half in resignation to the chances of a 
blighted hope, and half in digestive comfort. 

“We had better get back, Wyncott,” said Arnold. 
“ The ladies are sure to be a little timorous to-night.” 

“ I’ll walk with you, gentlemen,” said Prickett, “ if 
you’ll allow me. Miss Pharr will have some papers for 
me, and I want to catch the last train with ’em.” 

“Are you going up to town to-night?” Wyncott 
asked him. 

“ Why, no, sir,” Prickett answered. “ It’s a wonder- 
ful fine night. There’s a full moon due in about half an 
hour, and it’ll be almost like daylight. I shall have a 
walk round and take a look at the lie of the country. 
Don’t neither of you gentlemen take a pot shot at me 
from the winders.” 

Miss Pharr had the desired description of her jewels 
ready when they reached the house, neatly copied four 
times over, and Prickett, having received the manuscript, 
made his adieu for the night and retired. Wyncott had 
to submit to a repetition of the narrative he had already 
heard, and unfolded his scheme for a reward. Every- 
body agreed with him, and Arnold was for going up to 
town at once with an advertisement for alb the London 
dailies ; but, said Wyncott : 

“ Give Prickett a day or two’s law. Let us see if he 
can do anything. It would seem to show a distrust in 
the police to offer an independent reward so soon. Let 
us wait a little. I have great faith in Prickett. They 
could hardly have sent us a more competent man.” 

Mr. Prickett meanwhile had despatched his documents, 
and had strolled back towards the house on the hill in 


100 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


the placid enjoyment of a rank cigar. The night ful- 
filled his prophecy of it, and the moon, when it had 
once risen above the tree-tops, lit up the landscape with 
an almost tropic brilliance. The detective made a leis- 
urely tour of the grounds, following the lines of the 
outer wall, and observing the various places of entry. 
He hung for two or three minutes on a latchet gate, 
which admitted to the front lawn, and noticed that the 
path which led to it was completely sheltered by a high 
line of rhododendrons. 

“ They was all on that back lawn,” he soliloquized, 
“ and if there was anybody in it beside the girl they’d 
have to get into the house this side, probably at this 
very gate. If she give the signal when the coast was 
clear, the party could have slipped along under the shel- 
ter of them bushes into the house, and back again the 
same way. Then the likeliest road would be along this 
wall. Let’s have a look at things.” 

He strolled along quietly, looking from right to left 
with a vigilance so habitual as to have grown almost 
unconscious. 

“ That old Scotch party,” he mused, “ looks as if he’d 
got a head on him. I shouldn’t think as he’d be a very 
easy sort to gammon, especially in his own line. Apha- 
sia ? Agraphia ? I wish I’d asked him how he spelt ’em. 

I could ha’ .dropped a line to the divisional surgeon. 
I’ll ask him when I see him.” 

He came past the shelter of the wall which surrounded 
the grounds, and found himself in an open field. From 
the elevated spot he stood on he could see a black straight 
gash in the earth a quarter of a mile away. 

“ That’s a railway cutting,” said he. “ Hot an unlikely 
place for a cove to make for. Hot across the open, 
though. Where’s the most shelter ? There’s that hedge.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


101 


The hedge had a deep ditch beside it, and the bright 
moonlight, pouring full into it, showed that the rank, 
damp grasses had been trodden down. 

“ J oseph,” said Mr. Prickett, in an inward voice of 
solemn exultation, “ you’re on to something ! I don’t 
know he added more soberly, “ any village kid might 
ha’ done that. Children’s fond of walking in ditches, 
and getting into places where they’ve no business. Never 
mind, Joseph. We’ll follow it up and see if it leads to 
anything.” 

It led at length to a bean-field. There was a gap in 
the hedge, and Mr. Prickett, surveying the crop, could 
see a fairly distinct, rather zigzag line across it, which 
might have been made by the passage of a man. 

“ I suppose it’s trespass,” he said, “ and wilful damage 
to property. Never mind. Here goes.” 

He marched briskly across the field, keeping the line 
in sight, and came across another hedge which shelved 
diagonally towards the cutting. Here again was a ditch, 
but the hedge threw it into dense shadow. Mr. Prickett 
struck a vesta, and, kneeling down upon the grass, dis- 
covered new traces of footsteps. 

“ This is just the route a man would take,” he whis- 
pered, softly. “ Sheltered all the way except across that 
bit o’ bean-field.” 

He walked on smartly to the edge of the railway cut- 
ting. The side was precipitous, and from top to bottom 
ran a bricked open drain, leading from the ditch to a 
trench below. Beside the drain the earth was scored 
as if by the passage of a heavy sliding body. Doubting 
much if he would find a continuation of the track, the 
detective launched himself carefully upon the declivity, 
but, missing his footing at the first, shot downward at a 
greater speed than he had counted on, and landed with 


102 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


a shock at the bottom. For a second or two he was 
somewhat dazed, but, recovering himself, almost imme- 
diately he sat where he had fallen, and smoked his cigar 
with as impassive an air as if he had gone there in pre- 
cisely that fashion for no other purpose. 

On a sudden a glint of light struck his eye and van- 
ished. He had just been in the act of moving to take 
an easier posture. He worked his head hither and thith- 
er to catch the gleam again, and an improbable notion 
that the light might have flashed from one of the lost 
gems quickened his blood a little. He caught the light 
again, and then stooped down towards it, and, with a 
long-drawn inward whistle, picked up the object from 
which the gleam had been reflected. The moonlight, 
broad and clear as it was, did not satisfy him. He 
struck half a dozen wax vestas in a bunch, and examined 
his find until the lights burned his thumb and finger. 

“ Reuben, old pal,” he said, very quietly, “ I think 
you'll have something to say to this. Let me see. It’s 
half -past ten o’clock. A smart trap ’ll take me up to 
town in an hour and a half. I’ll try the Crown and 
Cushion, Reuben.” 

With that he remounted the bank, choosing a spot 
less precipitous than that at which he had descended, 
and made his way rapidly towards the village. Every 
now and then he danced in his gait, like a pleased 
child, and at length his inward eagerness so pricked him 
that he laid down his head and squared his shoulders, 
and raced across the fields at a pace of ten miles an 
hour. 

Hearing the inn, he composed himself, and entered in 
apparent quiet, though his brow was moist and his breath 
still came quickly. The landlord was standing in the 
passage, and Prickett accosted him. 


A DANGEROUS CAT SPA W. 


103 


“ I’m told, governor,” he said, “ you’ve got a famous 
little bit of horseflesh in your stable. I want to get up 
to London straight. I may want to get back to-night, 
or I may not, but I must be there afore midnight. Do 
you think the little ’orse can do it ?” 

“ It ’ll cost you a sovereign,” said the landlord. 

“ Good,” said Prickett. “ There you are. Short deal- 
ings make long friends. Get him in as soon as ever you 
can. I don’t want to lose a minute.” 

The landlord took the sovereign and bustled into the 
back yard. In three minutes a light dog-cart, with a 
slashing-looking mare in the shafts, was at the door. 

“ Hip in, sir,” said the driver. “ Where do you want 
to get to ?” 

“ Holborn,” said Prickett, as he mounted. 

“ All right,” the driver responded. “ Land you there 
in an hour and ten minutes.” 

Mr. Prickett had bestowed his find in his breast pock- 
et, and had carefully buttoned it up there. In the course 
of the journey he laid his hand upon it a hundred times 
to assure himself of its continued presence, and once he 
took it out to examine it anew in the moonlight. In 
some mysterious way the news of the robbery had pene- 
trated the village, and Mr. Prickett’s occupation was al- 
ready known. 

“ Found anything, sir ?” asked the driver, looking side- 
ways at him. 

“ Yes, young man,” said Mr. Prickett, dryly, returning 
the object to his pocket. “ I’ve found as there’s nothing 
more foolish than to tell your business afore you’re sure 
of it yourself.” 

They sped along the broad, white country road in 
silence after this, until the yellow glare of the sky in 
front betokened the lamps of London, and when they 


104 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


had actually entered upon the streets, clocks every here 
and there boomed the half-hour. The dog-cart rattled 
on until Holborn was reached, and there at a certain 
point Prickett laid his hand on the driver’s arm. 

“ Stop at the first court to the right. There’s half a 
crown for you. Use it gently, because you’ll have to 
drive home by yourself. I sha’n’t want you again. 
Good-night.” 

He dismounted, and, walking up the court, turned into 
the bar of an old-fashioned public-house which found 
shelter there, as if it half shrunk away from its newer 
and more garish neighbors. He signalled the landlord 
by a glance, and the man came forward. 

“ Mr. Gale here ? Tool-maker. You know.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said the landlord. “ He’s taking a glass 
of ale inside. If he’d take it somewhere else it ’d please 
me just as well, but he’s used the ’ouse for twenty years 
now, and I don’t like to say the word.” 

“ Tell him a party wants to speak to him,” said 
Prickett. 

The landlord, shaking his head and sighing as one who 
foresaw trouble, obeyed this request, and Mr. Gale pres- 
ently appeared. He betrayed neither tremor nor aston- 
ishment on seeing Prickett, but advanced with an out- 
stretched hand, and asked if his visitor would take a 
drink. Mr. Prickett commanded a ‘ small lemon and a 
dash,’ and stood tranquilly to consume that modest bev- 
erage. 

“ Reuben,” he said, poising the glass in his hand and 
eying its contents against the gaslight, as if they were 
of some rare and precious vintage, “ if you’ve got a spare 
five minutes, you might as well give ’em to me. There’s 
a trifle in the way of business I should like to talk 
about.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


105 


“ I’m at your service, Mr. Prickett,” Gale responded, 
civilly, and the detective, looking keenly sideways at 
him, emptied his glass, set it on the counter, and moved 
towards the door. “If you want to be private, you 
might as well come to my shop as anywhere,” said 
.Gale. 

When they came upon the court, the detective took 
the honest tradesman’s arm in the most friendly and 
familiar fashion, and Gale looked up at him with an un- 
disturbed inquiry, but said nothing. The shop reached, 
Gale unlocked the door, and entered first. He lit the 
gas, which sprang up with a shrill, spiteful-sounding 
song, and then passed behind his counter. Prickett, 
closing the door, drew his find from his breast pocket, 
and balanced it lightly in both hands. 

“ Did you ever see that afore, Reuben ?” he asked, 
with a voice of amiable badinage. 

Gale, with a mild surprise, held out his knotted hand 
for the object, and, having received it, scrutinized it 
closely. 

“ I might ha’ done, Mr. Prickett,” he responded, “ and 
I might not ha’ done.” 

There was a shadow of doubt and wonder on his face. 

“Well, now/’ said Prickett, “the long and the short 
of it is this. That’s your workmanship, Reuben.” 

“ Maybe it is,” said Gale. “ I shouldn’t be disposed 
at present to take my oath it wasn’t. It looks like part 
of a special order, I remember. What about it, Mr. 
Prickett ?” 

“ That’s one half o’ the tool,” said Prickett, tapping it 
gently with the extreme tip of his finger-nail, “ as did 
the job at the Wootton Hill House this afternoon.” 

He watched his man like a cat, but Gale lifted a face 
of innocent surprise. 


106 


‘ A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“I haven’t heard of it,” he said. “It ain’t got into 
the evening papers.” 

“Oh, of course you haven’t heard of it,” returned 
Prickett, in friendly bauter. “ That’s why I thought I’d 
come and tell you all about it. I knew you’d take a sort 
of interest in it, Reuben.” 

“ Why, naturally,” Gale responded. “ In the afternoon, 
did you say ? The hour’s unusual, ain’t it, Mr. Prickett ? 
Is it a big affair ?” 

“ It’s jewels, Reuben,” responded Mr. Prickett, “ val- 
ued from thirty to forty thousand pounds.” 

“My Jingo!” cried Gale, unmistakably interested. 
“ That’s a lift. Where was it ?” 

“Hill House, Wootton Hill. The residence of Mrs. 
Wyncott.” 

Gale’s glance fell towards the tool which lay upon the 
counter. He took it in his hands and examined it anew. 

“ Wyncott ?” he said, musingly. Prickett thought he 
detected a little tremor in his wheezy voice. “ Wyncott ? 
Where have I heard that name afore ?” 

“There’s just a chance, you know, Reuben,” said 
Prickett, playfully, “ as a young gentleman as saved you 
from a ten stretch last week may put you in for one at 
next assizes.” 

“ Oh, yes,” said Gale, drawling on the words. “ I re- 
member, Mr. Wyncott Esden. He’s a relation of the 
lady’s, maybe ?” 

“ He’s the lady’s nephew, said Prickett, “ and I’ve got 
the advantage of his assistance in the case. He’s re- 
tained for the prosecution, he is.” 

“Well, I wish you well, the pair of you,” returned 
Gale, laying down the tool with an odd decision of man- 
ner. “ As for that there little bit of ironmongery, I 
couldn’t say anything, leastways not for certain. I 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


107 


wouldn’t take my oath it wasn’t mine. I shouldn’t like, 
for sure, to say it was.” 

“ All right,” said Prickett. “ You’ll come quiet, Won’t 
you ?” 

“ Come ?” said Mr. Gale, with cheerful submission. I’ll 
come if I’ve got to come, of course. There’s no need 
for it, you know, Mr. Prickett.” 

“ That’s as maybe,” Prickett answered. 

“ I can account for every minute of my time to-day,” 
said Gale. “ I’ve been down at my place at Lime’us, 
discharging goods as come by canal from Birmingham. 
I’ve been there from nine in the morning until half -past 
seven at night, in the presence of competent and reliable 
witnesses, Mr. Prickett. I know no more about this job 
than the babe unborn. Look here. What time was it ?” 

“ Close on five o’clock, Reuben.” 

“ Then,” said Gale, “ I’m safe again. Now I don’t care 
where I goes. From a quarter to five to half-past five 
me and Richards, the Custom’us man, and Mr. George, 
the landlord of the Cup an’ Crown, was standing at 
the bar there, drinking stone ginger-ale, and having a 
discussion about this here new Irish Act as is to put 
down patriotism.” 

“If that’s the case, Reuben,” returned Prickett, pick- 
ing up the tool and buttoning his coat over it as a signal 
of his readiness to be gone, “ you’ll be a free nigger at 
nine o’clock to-morrow morning. In the meantime we’ll 
try and make it easy for you. You ain’t a family man, 
I think? That’s right. There’ll be nobody to worrit 
about you. Gentlemen as leads adventurous lives should 
make it a point to keep single for the sake of the ladies, 
Lord love ’em. Your little absences would ha’ made 
the average missus jealous.” 

Mr. Gale passed a sufficiently agreeable night at the 


108 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


district police-station, where he sat in friendly converse 
with two or three officers who had nothing to do, and 
were simply boring themselves to death before his ar- 
rival. At about three o’clock he was, at his own re- 
quest, accommodated with a cell, and there slept the 
sleep of conscious innocence until nine. At that hour 
Mr. Prickett awakened him with the information that 
his alibi had been satisfactorily established, and that he 
was free to go. 

“ But, look here, Reuben,” said Mr. Prickett, persua- 
sively, “it’s all humbug your pretending not to know 
that tool. They was talking about a reward last night, 
and so large a sum as a thousand pound was mentioned. 
Any information you might bring to me would be paid 
for very handsome. You think it over, Reuben.” 

“ I’ll think it over,” Gale answered, with his customary 
quiet. And, to do him justice, he thought of nothing 
else all day. He thought to such purpose, indeed, that 
in the afternoon he locked his shop and started on a 
quest of his own. 


CHAPTER X. 

Mr. Prickett had arisen at an unusually early hour 
in order to visit Gale’s witnesses at Limehouse, and hav- 
ing taken nothing but a cup of coffee before starting, 
found himself in admirable trim for breakfast. He had 
put something of a brotherly warmth into his farewell 
to his recent guest, and now sauntered homeward in the 
yet fresh air of the August morning with looks full of 
benevolent cheerfulness, as if his being able to set Gale 
at liberty had been a joy to him. Mr. Prickett had his 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


109 


residence for convenience’ sake within a stone’ s-throw of 
Scotland Yard, where he occupied apartments in an un- 
obtrusive and even shady thoroughfare. His way thither 
led him past the district station, and as he sauntered by 
its portals a man in seedy habiliments and a white 
hat emerged upon the street. This personage and Mr. 
Prickett exchanged a single glance in passing, and the 
detective’s face clouded. 

“Oh, Lord!” he groaned under his breath, “them 
highlows !” 

He went on his way with a certain air of petulance, 
and, reaching home, attacked his breakfast spitefully, 
spearing his bacon as though it gave him personal of- 
fence, and knocking his egg upon the head as if he had 
long nursed a private grudge against it. He found no 
joy in the police reports that morning, and the adver- 
tisement columns appealed to him in vain. 

While he sat there, dissatisfied, the maid of all w T ork 
appeared and announced that a gentleman had called to 
see him. 

“ Ask him his business,” said Mr. Prickett, with un- 
usual asperity. 

The girl retired, and after a pause of a minute or two 
reappeared with the statement that the gentleman had 
been sent from the Yard by Inspector Johnstone. On 
this the detective demanded that his visitor should be 
shown up. The man came in — a burly, country -looking 
fellow of about thirty, with an apple - cheeked face, a 
sheepish eye, a pendulous lower lip, and an upstanding 
peak of hay-colored hair. His smile was friendly and 
embarrassed, and for a time his hat seemed a burden to 
him. He looked about the carpet for a spot to set it on, 
and having placed it carefully in the middle of a square 
in the pattern, seemed relieved at first, but in a while re- 


110 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


pented of his choice, and set it in the middle of another 
square. 

Prickett had pushed his chair away from the table, 
and had arisen. He stood now before the mantelpiece, 
filling his pipe from a tobacco-jar, and regarded the new- 
comer with no favor. 

“ Well,” he said, coldly, “ what do you want ?” 

“ Ah’ve seen Mr. Johnstone,” said the visitor, in a soft, 
north - country accent, which contrasted strongly with 
Prickett’s metallic town-bred tones, “and he sent me 
here.” 

“ Did he ?” asked Prickett, as if he thought the worse 
of Johnstone. “And what may you want, now you 
are here ?” 

“ Ah’ve been in the fo’ce for the last five ’ear,” replied 
his guest, with a disarming smile. “ Ah’ve had a bit o’ 
luck in the way o’ business dahn at Manchester, and ah’ve 
got a week’s holiday. D’ye think, sir, as ah could do any- 
thing in London ?” 

“ Might take a ticket back again,” Prickett responded, 
dryly. 

“ Ah’ll wait awhile,” the visitor answered. “ Ah got 
a bit o’ brass out o’ that Fielding case, and ah shall stop 
mv week anny way.” 

“ What had you got to do with the Fielding case,” de- 
manded Prickett. 

“Nothing, but manage it,” said the other. The 
town man stopped with a lighted lucifer half-way to 
the bowl of his pipe, and looked at him with a new 
interest. 

“ What’s your name, young man ?” 

“ White’s ma name, Mr. Prickett. James White.” 

Mr. Prickett set the match to his pipe, and drew breath 
thoughtfully, keeping his eyes fixed on his guest. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


Ill 


“Well,” lie said, “maybe it is. You ought to know. 
But I shouldn’t have thought it.” 

At this dubious compliment to his personal aspect 
James White smiled with a look of pleased humor. 
The smile was as keen as his general expression was 
fatuous. 

“ I’m like the young woman in the song, Mr. Prickett,” 
he returned. The northern accent had almost disap- 
peared, and his gray eyes twinkled. “ 4 My face is my 
fortune, sir, she said.’ ” 

“ Sit down, White,” said Prickett, growing suddenly 
cordial. “I’m glad to see you. If my opinion’s any 
good to you, there hasn’t been a smarter thing done this 
three ’ear than that affair of Fielding’s.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Prickett. I’d sooner have you say 
that than anybody.” 

“ Well, that's very pretty hearing,” Prickett answered. 
“ If you’ve got a frugal mind, and don’t want to waste 
your time up here, I can make it worth a ten-pound note 
to you.” 

“ What’s the office ?” White inquired. 

“ You’ve seen the morning papers ? Well, I’m on that 
Wootton Hill job. I’ve got a clew already. I’ve got 
the tool it was done with, and I know the man as made 
it. I laid him by the heels last night, but I proved his 
alibi for him and I had to let him go. But the tool’s his 
make, and he knows who he sold it to. How if the swag 
was a common handful he mightn’t do more than write 
and give his pal the tip, but it’s thirty thousand pounds, 
and he’ll want halves. I’ve had a chap put on to shadow 
him — a chap as I thought was smart — and I’ll be hanged 
if I didn’t meet him an hour and a half ago in Holborn 
paddling down the street in a pair of regulation trotter 
cases ! Everything else as innocent as you please, and 


112 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


the boots to mark him ! And he’s after one of the oldest 
hands in London, and the leanest, bar none !” 

“Well, that’s a greenhorn’s trick to be sure,” said 
White. 

“Green?” returned Prickett, disgustedly. “Water- 
cresses ain’t in it. Now maybe, White, you may think 
it’s Irish promotion to be put on to sneaking, after the 
Fielding record, but I tell you,” he leaned forward to 
make this more impressive, and tapped his companion’s 
knee with the tip of the pipe he was smoking, “ the man 
that undertakes to shadow Reuben Gale, and does it — 
and does it, mind you — does as smart a piece of work as 
the smartest man might ask to be put on to. I’d take 
it on myself, but he knows me like his own born brother.” 

“ What I want is a London chance, Mr. Prickett,” said 
the visitor. 

“ Well, you’ve got it,” Prickett answered, “but you’ve 
got to know your man. To look at him, and talk to him, 
you’d think him as mild and harmless as a baby. He’s 
as deep as Garrick, and as cruel as the devil. He don’t 
know how to be afraid of anything or anybody. He’s 
very near done murder once, and if he thought it needful 
he’d put a bullet in you as lieve as look at you.” 

“ I read the case you was in with him,” said White. 
“That was pretty desperate. I suppose there was no 
doubt he done it ?” 

“ Doubt ?” cried Pickett, with a sudden wrathful flash. 
“Never mind,” he added. “There’s a fresh hand dealt 
out, and we’ll see who’s got the cards. You can settle 
on to this job at once, White, if you care to take it. You 
know London? All right. Stroll down Holborn past 
Chancery Lane, till you come to the Stamford Castle, 
licensed house, left-hand side. Gale’s place is opposite — 
sign over the window — tool-maker’s shop. You’ll find a 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


113 


chap there, reddish mustache, white hat, pretty battered. 
You'll know him by them thundering boots. ‘ Bacon,’ 
says you, and if he answers 4 Beans,’ you ask him 
‘ French V He says ‘ Broad,’ and he knows he’s off and 
you know you’re on. Wait a bit. I’ve got three full- 
length portraits of Mr. Beuben — front, back, and pro- 
feel. You’ll know him again, I reckon?” 

“ Know him ? Know him anywhere. Where shall I 
find you if I pick up anything ?” 

“ Wire to the Yard. And now you’d better get off, 
for there’s no knowing how soon he’ll start. The closer 
you can stick to him the better. I wouldn’t have him 
draw a breath un watched if I could help it, but don’t you 
try to overdo it. He’ll give you clean away, if you offer 
him a shadow of a chance.” 

“ I’ll do my best, Mr. Prickett,” the recruit answered, 
quietly, and with that he departed. 

“ That’s better,” mused Prickett, when he was left 
alone again. “ It’s a vallyble gift, such a mug as that 
chap’s got. He’s almost as big a sell as Reuben himself. 
Lord ! how people do go round letting ’emselves be took 
in by faces, to be sure !” 

He sat for a while thinking hard, with his forehead 
drawn into a tense knot between the eyebrows, and then, 
rousing himself, went out to despatch a telegram to 
Wyncott Esden. 

“Found clew. Following it. Let me know when girl Grainger can 
be spoken to. Prickett, Scotland Yard.” 

This done, he sought the divisional surgeon, who dis- 
persed his doubts about agraphia and aphasia. 

“ If Dr. Elphinstone reads the case in that way, 
Prickett,” said the surgeon, “ you may be sure he’s right. 
He was a famous nerve specialist when he retired 
from practice.” 

8 


114 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


For the time being there was nothing more to be 
done, but Mr. Prickett was accustomed to the conduct 
of enterprises which demanded patience, and he was 
a master in the great art of waiting. This time his en- 
ergies were not long unemployed, for before midday 
a man came up from the Yard bearing a telegram from 
Wootton Hill which asked his immediate presence 
there. 

On his arrival he found the full family conclave as- 
sembled. Everybody except Wyncott appeared mightily 
serious, but the barrister wore a look of amusement. 

“This,” he said to Prickett, handing him a broken 
envelope, “arrived this morning. We want your opin- 
ion on it.” 

Prickett took the envelope and inspected it gravely. 
Then he drew from it a soiled and crumpled sheet of 
paper and silently perused its contents. 

“Respected Miss, — [the letter ran.] Greived I am to the coare to 
aknolige, that my onely son was in this days crime the stones is now in 
his position thuogh long a burdin to a fathers hart , had not lookt to find 
him gloting on illgott ganes. he say respected miss Thuogh of good 
education he will nott yeild to A father’s prairs & ristoar the objecks 
of his crim without soMe ricomphence. he will take a thousan and 
cryquits if agreeable respected miss in tomorrow standards Aguy col- 
lumn say this is square to A Greiving Father.” 

Prickett stood examining this singular document for 
some time after it was evident that he had read it 
through. 

“Well, Prickett,” said Wyncott, smilingly, “what do 
you think about it ?” 

“ I think a good many things about it, sir,” he an- 
swered. “ It’s lond fide up to a certain point. The par- 
ties it comes from have got the stones, because this was 
posted in London last night, before anybody but us here 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


115 


knew as the robbery had been committed. But outside 
that the letter’s a flam.” 

“What do you mean by that, Mr. Prickett ?” Janet 
asked him. 

“ Why, miss,” he answered, “ if you’ll take a careful 
look at it you’ll find the paper’s been soiled and crum- 
pled after it was wrote upon. You can’t write on paper 
that’s crumpled as much as that without the pen being 
a bit guided by the creases. These stains ain’t nat- 
ural dirt. They’re coffee, they are, and they’re put on 
afterwards. You can see where they’ve run the ink a 
little.” 

“ But what does all that lead to in your mind ?” she 
asked. 

“ It leads,” he answered, “ to this, miss. The party that 
wrote this is trying to look ignorant and poor. It’s a 
false hand to a certainty. A party as was really poor 
wouldn’t want to take pains to show it. ‘ Education,’ 
‘ without,’ ‘ father,’ and ‘ respected ’ is all spelled prop- 
erly. A man wouldn’t be likely to spell ‘ recompense ’ 
like this person does, and then know how to spell 
6 education.’ He’s watered his ink, you notice. I 
should say that letter was wrote by a man better up in 
the world than he pretends, that the bad spelling was 
done a-purpose, and that it was wrote in these print- 
ing letters with the left hand.” 

“ That’s very shrewd criticism, Prickett,” said Wyn- 
cott, “ and I’m very much of your opinion. But it’s 
apart from the main question. These people — providing 
that either grieving father or erring son is not a fiction 
— have certainly got the jewels. How, Miss Pharr is 
quite willing to pay the sum mentioned here to get them 
back again.” 

“Well,” returned Prickett, speaking with an air of 


116 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


weight and solemnity, “ if Miss Pharr will listen to my 
opinion she won’t do anything of the sort at present.” 

“My dear Prickett,” said Wyncott, his sense of social 
superiority seeming to assert itself for the first time, 
“ you must not think too much of your own side in this 
matter. I advised last night” — he turned to Miss Pharr 
and addressed himself to her — “ that a reward should be 
offered, and in Mr. Prickett’s presence I proposed that it 
should be large enough to induce the thief to return the 
property. Now, it would be obviously to Mr. Prickett’s 
advantage to keep the inquiry open, but I must ask him 
to remember that it is obviously to yours to close it.” 

“ Excuse me, Mr. Esden,” said Prickett ; “ but I don’t 
see that. Why do these parties write to Miss Pharr? 
Because your guess last night was right. It’s been done 
for the reward. These people’s pressed for money. 
The way the job was done showed they was new to the 
game. Anything more clumsy and unworkmanlike I 
never saw. This letter shows that they don’t know what 
to do with the jewels now they’ve got ’em. A hand as 
knew his way about could make five thousand certain. 
Give ’em rope and they’ll hang themselves. They’ll be 
trying to get ’em on the market, and we shall have’ em.” 

“ But, Mr. Prickett,” cried Janet, appealingly, “ I don’t 
want a prosecution if I can avoid it. You must not 
mind my telling you how I feel. It was all through 
my wicked vanity and folly that these poor people were 
tempted. If I can only get the jewels back at the cost 
of a thousand pounds I shall be too glad.’ And perhaps 
if the poor wretches had a sum like that it would place 
them beyond temptation.” 

Mr. Prickett’s smile at this was compounded of re- 
spectful admiration, pity, and superior knowledge. 

“You don’t mean to say, miss, that you’re took in by 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


117 


this here grieving father business ? That’s chaff, that is, 
miss ; mere impudence, and pretty cheeky, too.” 

“ Oh !” said Janet, “ I should be sorry to think so.” 

“ Excuse me, miss,” returned Mr. Prickett, with an air 
almost fatherly, “ but I should be very sorry not to think 
so. I should pretty soon have to look out for another 
profession if I did.” 

“ The Scotland Yard theory o’ human nature in a case 
like this,” said Elphinstone, “is likely to be as just as 
your own, Janet, if it isn’t quite as gen’rous.” 

“Well, now, ladies and gentlemen,” said Prickett, in 
his most businesslike voice and manner, “I wired this 
morning that I’d got a clew. As a matter of fact, it’s a 
clew as it would be a crime to waste. I didn’t mean to 
show it yet, because I wanted to make it as complete as 
I could.” He unbuttoned his frock coat slowly as he 
spoke. “ But still it’s good enough to go on. There it 
is. That’s the tool the job was done with.” 

He moved towards the table and made as if he would 
lay the tool upon it, but Wyncott, advancing, took it 
from his hand. The eyes of the two men met, strangely ; 
Esden’s dilated, Prickett’s half closed with a swift yet 
unperturbed inquiry. Then the barrister took the leather- 
clad bit of steel in a hand so eager that it shook like a 
vibrating spring. 

“What’s that mean?” said Prickett’s eyes, but he 
talked on without interruption. “ I know the man that 
made it, and he knows the party he parted with it to.” 
Wyncott walked towards the window with the tool in 
his hand, examining it by the way. Standing at the 
window he cleared his throat with a dry cough. “ When 
I tell Mr. Wyncott Esden that Reuben Gale’s the man 
as made it he’ll know the kind of party that we’ve got 
to deal with. He’s a man as would sell his mother for 


118 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


a sovereign if he couldn’t get a guinea for her, but he’d 
hold out for the guinea. He won’t say anything yet 
because he’s waiting for a reward to be offered, but he 
promised me this morning he’d think about it. How, 
ladies and gentlemen, you oblige me to open up my 
mind. If Reuben Gale once gets into the swim with 
the thieves hdll know what to do with the property. 
He’ll cry halves, get the stones cut, and get ’em on to 
the market with next to no trouble. If you commission 
me to buy him before he can get at the others you may 
see your own again, but if you give him time to move 
it’s all over.” 

“ How do you know,” Wyncott demanded, returning 
from his place by the window, “ that this is the tool ?” 

“ It answers to the marks, sir,” returned Prickett. 

“ Have you tried it?” Wyncott asked. 

“ Ho, sir. I had no need to. We’ll try it if you like.” 

The two left the room and went up-stairs together. 
During their absence Elphinstone addressed himself to 
Janet. 

“ Were I in your place, my dear,” he said, “I’d just 
leave myself in the hands o’ the constituted authority. 
I’ve formed a high opinion of this detective fellow. He 
knows his business.” 

“I suppose,” Janet answered, with a rueful little 
laugh, “ that we must cease to believe in the grieving 
father.” 

“ I think,” said Elphinstone, “ you’d better leave Mr. 
Prickett to dry his tears. He’ll certainly wipe his eye 
if he get the chance.” This tiny jest was a little out of 
the doctor’s ordinary way. He seemed to feel a lively 
joy in it — perhaps because of its very rarity — and rubbed 
his hands, and twinkled with an unusual complacency. 

“Prickett’s right,” called Wyncott from the hall be- 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


119 


fore he reached the doorway. “ This is undoubtedly the 
tool with which the burglary was committed.” He en- 
tered talking, and his manner was brisk and even a little 
excited. “ The man who made this tool,” he said, “ is a 
client of mine, and only the other day I got him out of 
a very serious position. He was very grateful. I posi- 
tively had the pleasure of dining with him after his ac- 
quittal.” 

“Wyncott !” in a tone of extreme astonishment from 
the old lady. 

“ Indeed I had ! He came and sat down at the same 
table with me at the Cock tavern. He wanted to give 
me fifty pounds for my successful defence of him. I 
think I may have some influence with him, and I am 
going to propose that Prickett and I should see him to- 
gether, and see what we can get out of him.” 

“ There’s something in that,” said Prickett, with his 
head poised thoughtfully on one side. “ There may be 
somebody behind Reuben Gale to talk to, and if there 
should be, the parties won’t come anigh me. It’d be 
just as natural to expect the crows to come and talk 
with the boy as carries the gun.” 

“If Miss Pharr,” said Esden, brightly and eagerly, 
“would intrust Mr. Prickett and myself to negotiate 
with this man Gale, we might, perhaps, save the jewels 
altogether. It would be the depth of weakness to pay 
the money to the actual criminals. 

“You have carte blanche , Mr. Esden,” cried Janet. 
“ But pray do all you can to avoid a prosecution.” 

“You hear that, Prickett?” said Wyncott. “We’ll 
get up by the next train together and see what we can 
do.” 

It turned out that there was no train for an hour, and 
in the interval Wyncott seemed consumed by an eager 


120 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


restlessness. He insisted on carrying Prickett off with 
him, that he might learn the precise spot at which the 
tool was found. Returning, with still nearly an hour to 
spare, he ran up-stairs to pack his bag, and came down 
with it in a great hurry, as if he had not a moment to 
waste. 

“You’re going to this business like a sleuth-hound, 
Wyncott,” said the doctor. “/ saw ye last night, my 
man.” 

“Saw me?” asked Wyncott, turning swiftly on him. 
“ Saw me where ?” 

“ Upon ma word, Janet,” said Elphinstone, humorously, 
“ he’s ashamed of his professional instincts. I watched 
’m in the moonlight for an hour last night, racing to and 
fro for all the world like a dog hunting a lost scent.” 

“ I beg pardon, sir,” said Prickett, “ but how about that 
young woman ?” 

“ Nothing to be done with her as yet,” returned the 
doctor. “ That’s an odd affair altogether. She’ll do no 
earthly thing but weep, and we can’t get her to take her 
meals.” 

“ She thinks herself suspected,” said the heiress, “ and 
she is wild at not being able to explain herself.” 

“ I dare say that’s how it is, miss,” responded Prickett, 
with an unfathomable face. 


CHAPTER XI. 

As Wyncott Esden and Mr. Prickett drove out of 
Chancery Lane into Holborn, the detective suddenly 
thrust a hand through the trap-door overhead, and ar- 
rested the hansom. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


121 


“ We’ve passed our man,” he said, as he alighted and 
tendered a shilling to the driver. “ He’s been out of 
town — got country dust on his boots.” 

In effect, Mr. Gale was walking towards them, at a 
distance of not more than a score of yards. His head was 
sunk in thought, and he carried his thumb at his lips. 
As he came near they saw that his teeth were working 
at the nail, and he was evidently in a brown study. 
Prickett drew back to let him pass, and Gale went by 
unobserving. 

“ Reuben,” said the detective, quietly. He paused and 
turned at this, with his mild, brown eyes full on Prickett’s 
face. A second later he caught sight of Wyncott and 
gave a start, but, recovering himself in a second, touched 
his hat. “ I want another word or two with you,” said 
Prickett. “ Where shall we have it ?” 

“ I’m close at home, sir, as you know,” Gale answered, 
civilly, “ and at your service.” 

The three filed into the dingy shop, Esden leading, 
and Gale stepping politely on one side until his visit- 
ors had entered. A boy stood behind the counter, 
and the honest tradesman, casting a glance at him, re- 
marked that they could be private in his back room 
if they would have the goodness to go on. He threw 
open a door, and again stood by to allow his guests to 
pass. 

“ While these gentlemen is here,” he said to the boy, 
“ I’m not to be disturbed on no account.” 

“ Very well, sir,” said the boy, with an awe-struck eye 
on Prickett, whose earlier acquaintance with his em- 
ployer had made him memorable. 

“How, Gale,” began Esden, when the door was closed, 
“I dare say you can give a guess as to what brings us 
here.” 


122 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“Well, p’r’aps I might be able to give a guess, sir,” 
Gale responded, with a waiting look. 

“Prickett has told me everything that passed last 
night and this morning,” said Wyncott. He was very 
persuasively business-like in tone and manner. “ You’ve 
had time to think it over. How, was that tool of your 
making ?” 

“ Mr. Esden,” said Gale, with his quiet, ox-like eye up- 
turned towards him, “ I look to be dealt fair with, and 
so far as I can go you can reckon as I’m with you.” 

“ Come,” said Wyncott, turning with a quick eye on 
Prickett, “ that will do ! Well, Gale ?” 

“ The tool’s my make, sir, right enough. It’s like this, 
Mr. Prickett. I’ve made three tools on that pattern, 
and disposed of all of ’em. I’ve been to the parties as 
had the two first, and they’ve still got ’em. I haven’t 
had a chance for a talk with the third party, but I’ve 
dropped him a ’int, and I think I may be able to get a 
word with him to-night.” 

“Well, Gale,” returned Esden, “I suppose it’s of no 
use trying to spur you beyond the pace you are resolved 
to go at.” 

“ I can’t go no faster, sir,” Gale answered, “ but I 
think I shall get there.” 

“ Mind you, Reuben,” interposed Mr. Prickett, “ this 
ain’t a Dutch auction.” 

“ Dutch auction, Mr. Prickett ?” Gale asked, with an 
almost superfluous air of innocence. 

“ You don’t want two strings to your bow,” said 
Prickett, interpreting one parable by another. 

“ I shall make it my business, Gale,” said Wyncott, 
“ to see that you are dealt with generously in this mat- 
ter if you are loyal. You owe me something. I think 
I have a little claim on you already.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


123 


Mr. Esden,” Gale responded, “ deal square with me, 
sir, and I’m firm. But I must make a bargain with you 
gentlemen. I mustn’t be shadowed, Mr. Prickett. I’m 
game to lend an ’elping ’and in this affair, because Mr. 
Wyncott Esden’s in it ; but I ain’t going to plant Scot- 
land Yard on a man as may have something else agen 
him, and yet be innocent of this.” 

“ Well, Prickett,” said Esden, “ can you see your way 
to that ?” 

“ I’d give something to be inside your head for half a 
minute, Reuben,” said Prickett, shaking his own head 
doubtfully. 

“ Well, gentlemen,” Gale answered, with his amiable 
wheeze, “ if I got that promise I should know as I could 
trust it. Without it I sha’n’t move a foot.” 

“ Yery well, then,” said Prickett, resigning himself to 
the inevitable with a grave alacrity, “ you must have 
it.” 

“ Have I got it ?” inquired Gale. 

“ You’ve got it till twelve o’clock midday, to-morrow,” 
Prickett responded. “ After that — ” He rose, nodded, 
and put his hat on. 

“ Nothing more to be said at present, then?” asked 
Wyncott, rising. “ It will be safer for you, Gale, to 
bring what information you may get to me rather than 
to Prickett. You won’t want to be seen in communica- 
tion with the police. I shall be in my chambers from 
ten to twelve to-night.” 

Prickett acquiescing in this arrangement, the barrister 
and he went away together. Gale, left alone, sat with 
a look of deep wonderment, and nodded to himself re- 
peatedly. 

“ This,” he said at last, with a long, slow breath, 
“ beats all.” 


124 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


His thoughts so worked upon him that he arose in- 
voluntarily and without knowledge, and went pacing 
to and fro within the limited confines of his room, with 
his hands tucked under the skirts of his respectable frock 
coat, and his face knit in a profound perplexity. Sud- 
denly a swift step sounded in the shop, the door opened, 
and Wyncott Esden stood before him with a face like 
chalk. Gale looked silently at him, dropped into a 
chair, waved Esden to another, and went as impassive 
as Death, straightway. Esden closed the door, and 
stood with one hand on the chair Gale had indicated. 
There was silence for a full minute. 

“ Well!” said Esden, harshly. He spoke as if there 
were ashes in his throat. 

“ Well, sir?” said Gale. 

“ Damn it, man, speak out !” said Esden, passionately. 
“ What do you know ?” 

“ Well, sir,” Gale answered, not losing his smooth humil- 
ity for a moment, “ I think I know enough. I’ve covered 
a good deal of ground to-day, Mr. Esden.” His mild, 
brown eyes looked deference, and his voice was huskily 
confidential and plaintive. “ I’ll tell you what I’ve 
done, sir. First of all I went to your chambers, and 
found as you was out. Then I went down to Wootton 
’111, sir, and had five minutes’ conversation along with 
the station master. I found out as you come up to town 
yesterday by the one thirty-five, and went down again 
by the train as got there at eight three. Then I walked 
on to Hemsleigh, and learned as a gentleman paid ex- 
cess fare from Wootton ’111 by the four twenty-seven. 
He carried a black bag, and he started off across fields 
towards Wootton. Then I walked back as far as Sandy 
Park, which is the next station to Wootton on the Lon- 
don side, and found as the same gentleman had took the 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


125 


up-train at five thirty — the trains fitting in beautiful. 
Perhaps you may recall, sir, as the three-station dodge 
was a point against me on my trial. You smoothed it 
over very pretty, that time.” 

“ Well,” said Esden, his color coming and going, and 
his voice sounding strange in his own ears. “ What does 
all this come to ?” 

“ Why, I think, Mr. Esden, sir, it comes to halves,” 
Gale answered. “ You see, sir, the jewels is said to be 
worth from thirty to forty thousand pounds. Of course, 
it ain’t to be supposed, sir, as they’re worth that to us. 
We might realize anything on ’em, from four to six.” 

“ Perhaps we might,” said Esden. “We shall not, as 
it happens.” 

“ No, sir?” asked Gale, in a respectful wonder. “ Why 
not, sir ?” 

“ Unlimited loo makes us acquainted with strange bed- 
fellows, Mr. Gale,” said Esden. “ If anybody had told 
me thirty hours ago that I should wish to justify to you 
any business intention I might form, I should have been 
amused at the prophecy.” 

61 1 follow that, sir,” said Gale, in his respectful way. 

“ Since we are made partakers in the same iniquity,” 
Esden continued, with a badinage so bitter that it made 
him loathsome to himself, “ I may as well open my mind 
to you. I will offer you that full and perfect candor 
which, if our positions were again reversed, you would 
deny me. I did this job — I believe that is the profes- 
sional phrase, but you will forgive an amateur for any 
possible partial lapse into respectable English — I did 
this job for a special reason of my own. I happened to 
be particularly hard up for money, and I did it for the 
reward. If you suppose that your knowledge will drive 
me one inch beyond my original purpose, you are very 


126 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


much mistaken. At the worst I can send the jewels 
back again, and make a run for it. My friends will 
make no scandal, and I shall not be followed.” 

“ Well, you know, sir,” said Gale, with a gently argu- 
mentative reluctance, “ it’s simply chucking money away. 
I know my way about, sir, and I could get them jewels 
cut, and get ’em on the market as safe and easy as kiss 
my hand.” 

“ Your experience and ingenuity will not be called 
into play this time, Mr. Gale,” responded Esden. The 
bestial flavors of detection so stirred his gorge that he 
was sick at the very soul with pangs which felt almost 
mortal. He needed his verbose and elaborated sneers 
for medicine. They yielded another sort of shame and 
pain, and so half solaced the first. 

“ Yery good, sir,” Gale answered. “ I should like to 
know if any steps has yet been took, sir. Will you take 
a seat, Mr. Esden ? Mr. Prickett was talking about the 
reward being made pretty large. He mentioned it this 
morning, sir.” 

“ This epistle,” said Esden, producing the c grieving 
father’s ’ letter, and throwing it on the table, “ reached 
the owner of the gems this morning.” 

Gale stretched out a knotted hand and took up the 
letter clumsily. He read it through with painstaking, 
and looked up with a grin. Esden had never seen him 
smile before, and the honest tradesman’s mirth brought 
him a new repulsion. Gale had lost some half-dozen of 
his front teeth, and his half-obliterated eyes, and creased 
cheeks, and gap-toothed grin, made him quite ghastly. 
He looked like some horrible old gargoyle, and Esden, 
staring at him, got bis first intuition of the personality 
which lay below that humble and smooth exterior. 

“ That’s clever, Mr. Esden,” said Gale, “ that’s very 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


127 


clever, sir, and I don’t know as we could find a better 
line to go on. Won’t you sit down, sir? I shall make 
a point of coming to see you to-night, sir, notwithstand- 
ing this little talk. It’ll be safest, don’t you see, sir, in 
case anything might turn up afterwards, to show that I 
hadn’t been anigh you. In the meantime I shall make 
a call at a likely house I know, as if I was making in- 
quiries.” 

“ Do you think,” asked Esden, looking nervously over 
his shoulder, “ that you’re being watched ? Do you 
think Prickett will break his promise ?” 

“ Oh dear, no, sir,” Gale answered. “ Mr. Prickett’s 
square, sir. He’s passed his word, and he’ll keep it. 
Every officer of his experience, sir, has had to make this 
kind of compromise. But I shall make the two calls all 
the same, Mr. Esden, and I shall take care to be able to 
prove hereafter as I made ’em. Ho unnecessary risk 
has allays been my motto, sir.” 

“ Do you know, Mr. Gale,” said Esden, “ that your 
chance collaboration in this affair will make it very dif- 
ficult for me to be honest ?” 

“ Will it, sir ?” Gale asked, with no betrayal of sur- 
prise or humor. “ As how, sir ?” 

“ I shall have to work pretty hard to scrape together 
your five hundred,” answered Esden. “ You will under- 
stand, if you please, that I am not a thief. I am merely 
a borrower — upon lines which I admit to be eccentric. 
Every shilling of this money will be repaid.” 

“Well, sir,” said Gale, with an air of reflection and 
allowance, “ I can understand as a gentleman may feel 
that way. I’ll make that little call, sir, for the look of 
the thing, and I’ll be with you to-night at ten. I’ve had 
a fatiguing day, sir, and I’d rather get it over early. 
Then you can go on, sir, and take my information to 


128 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


Mr. Prickett. 4 Gale,’ you says, 6 has screwed it all out 
of the man he sold the tool to. That man, 5 you says, 
‘is the same as the grieving father. Gale, 5 you says, 
‘ undertakes to have back the jewels in four-and-twenty 
hours from now if the advertisement goes into to-mor- 
row morning’s paper. As for Gale,’ you says, ‘ he can 
be trusted to make his own terms with the grieving 
father.’ Beyond that,” he added, rising from his seat, 
“ I don’t fancy there’s anything to be said at present, 
Mr. Esden. The wool seems drawn pretty well down 
over Joseph Prickett’s eyes this time, and I don’t say 
but what the money’s pretty easy earned.” 

And with that these oddly assorted confederates sepa- 
rated for the time. 

Meanwhile Mr. Prickett, having parted from his ama- 
teur associate, strolled to the district station, and there 
gave instructions for the relief of Gale’s watcher. He 
left word that no new watch should be established until 
further orders, and that White should follow him at 
once to his apartments. Then he walked homewards, 
musing with some sense of disappointment on the turn 
affairs had taken. 

“ That thousand pounds,” he thought, “ would have 
looked as pretty in my pocket as it will in anybody 
else’s.” 

The money question apart, he was grieved to be taken 
off the chase. The man-hunting instinct had grown to 
be very much a passion with him. 

“ I could have had that grieving father,” so he pon- 
dered, “and consoled him, if ten years’ honest labor 
could ha’ done it. Reuben was certain to go palavering 
with him. I should have had Reuben, too. It’s de- 
cidedly a pity. It’s a nice job spoiled.” 

Carrying the weight of his disappointment with him, 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


129 


he walked home so slowly that White entered almost 
on his heels. The recruit did not seem to think it need- 
ful to continue his countrified pretence. 

“ Well?” said Prickett, by way of sole inquiry. 

“ Mr. Gale,” returned White, with his deliberate north- 
country tones a little quickened, “ has been showing me 
a very pretty run of country. P’r’aps I’d better give 
you the day as it passed, Mr. Prickett.” 

Prickett nodding in answer, White produced a small 
pocket-book, and turned its pages over with a moistened 
thumb until he found the place he wanted. His chief 
leaned against the mantelpiece with his hands in his 
pockets, and listened with a dry, uninterested air. 

“ I went on at seven to eleven,” said White, consult- 
ing his notes from time to time. “ Three minutes after, 
Gale comes out and makes for the Temple, number nine, 
Elm Court. He mounts to the top o’ the staircase, and 
raps two or three times. Then he comes down and asks 
an old woman with a mop and a pail o’ water if Mr. 
Wyncott Esden’s in town. There was the name of Wyn- 
cott Esden on the door-post.” 

“ Go on,” said Prickett. He drew a penknife from 
his waistcoat, and began to trim his nails with it, with 
a variety of head turnings and minute inspections. 

“ Hext,” pursued the northerner, purring equably along, 
“he goes to Charing Cross station and takes train for 
Woottpn Hill.” 

When Mr. Prickett was interested that look he wore 
of being unsurprisable always deepened. It deepened 
now, and he looked up at his companion with a face set 
like a mask. 

“At Wootton Hill,” White went on, “Gale had five 
minutes’ talk with station master, and then struck out 
across the fields. It occurred to me that it might be 

9 


130 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


worth while to know what he knowed, so I took a turn 
at station master myself. He was a bit rusty at first, 
and I had to tell him it was queen’s business. That 
oiled him, and he told me Gale had been making inqui- 
ries about Mr. Wyncott Esden.” 

“ Oh !” said Prickett. “ What did he want to know 
about Mr. Wyncott Esden?” 

“ He wanted to know what train he went up by, and 
what train down by, yesterday. Station master told 
him one twenty-five and eight three. Then Gale asked 
for the next station down the line. He was told it was 
called Hemsleigh, and had the way pointed out. I nips 
after him — very pretty walk, shaded mostly — and Gale 
gets into confab with station master at Hemsleigh.” 

“ What about this time ?” asked Prickett, making a 
pretence of yawning behind his hand. 

“ Gale had been asking after a gentleman, clean-shaved, 
eyeglass, very swell and handsome. Prob’ly wore a 
white hat, white wescut, and primrose gloves, he said. 
Station master told him there had been such a gentle- 
man yesterday, by the four twenty-seven. Carried a 
black bag, and paid excess fare first-class from Wootton 
Hill. Gave up Wootton Hill ticket. Seemed to have 
overshot the mark, and started back on it.” 

“ Ho you know what ?” said Prickett, turning to the 
mantelpiece to fill his pipe, and casting a backward 
glance on White meanwhile, “ you’re a starting me on 
the queerest — Never mind. I’ll tell you after. Go on.” 

“ Gale found out as the same gentleman was back at 
Hemsleigh last night, asking if any suspicious character 
was seen about with a parcel that afternoon.” 

“ James White,” said Prickett, turning round and stuf- 
fing the tobacco into the pipe-bowl with a slow and some- 
what exaggerated energy, “ you’re a man as hag seen 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


131 


something. So am I. But all we’ve seen between us, 
if it was rolled into a heap, wouldn’t make a molehill by 
the side of this. Jim along. What’s the next move?” 

“ Gale asked for the next station on the London route, 
beyond Wootton Hill. Sandy Park. Got sent across 
the fields. Short cut. About three mile. Same story 
over again. Same gentleman took the five thirty up 
train. That seemed to finish Gale’s inquiries. He took 
the next train for London, and I come with him in 
another coach.” 

“ Thatfs all right,” said Prickett. “ You shadowed 
him home again, of course ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ You saw me with him after? Anybody call on him 
between whiles ?” 

“Ho. You caught him on the way, seemingly. He 
dropped in at a pub in Chancery Lane, and took a glass 
of beer very slow and thoughtful. Took nearly an hour 
over it.” 

“ Anybody call on him after I came away ?” 

“ The gentleman you went in with came back again.” 

“ Ho ?” cried Prickett, in a tone of intensest humor- 
ous relish. “You don’t mean to say as he went back 
again ?” 

“ Went back, looking pretty queer and shaky,” White 
responded. “ Stopped about ten minutes, maybe, and 
then come out again looking as if he’d had the ’orrors.” 

“ Do you think Gale spotted you at all ?” Prickett 
asked. 

“ Hever set eyes on me but once, so far as I believe. 
Platform at Sandy Park.” 

“Well,” said Prickett, with an unusually smiling and 
amiable air, “ I promised Gale I wouldn’t have him shad- 
owed. I think I will though, now I come to think about 


132 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


it. And I fancy as I shall reconcile my conscience pret- 
ty easy too.” 

“ You want me to go on again ?” White asked. 

“Yes,” his superior answered, “you’d best get back 
again.” 

When White had disappeared Prickett fell to march- 
ing up and down the room, and paused now and again 
to rub his hands with thoughtful satisfaction. 

“ I couldn’t understand Reuben’s face one bit,” he mur- 
mured. “ I can make it out better now. He was just 
full to the bung with admiration of that young amateur’s 
frozen cheek in running along with me. Why, it’s a 
real pleasure to have a pair like that to deal with. Lord 
love you, Mr. Wyncott Esden, we shall have them ches- 
nuts out o’ the fire, but we shall have to wait to see 
whose paws gets burned. It’s a bit of a pity, too, to 
see a smart young chap like that fooling his chances 
away. Of course he does it very clever, but what’s the 
use of playing good whist when all the cards is against 
you ?” 


CHAPTER XII. 

When Wyncott Esden left Gale’s shop he walked on 
blindly for a little while, neither knowing nor caring in 
what direction he bent his steps. His whole system of 
things had gone suddenly to pieces, and the crash with 
which it had come about his' ears bewildered him. It 
is necessary to have some sort of scheme to live in. A 
world of no principle, if it lasted but an hour, would 
bring madness to its occupant. Indeed, the total absence 
of a scheme could hardly mean less than death, for a 
madman’s mental plan is only distorted. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


133 


As a matter of fact, Esden was one of those people to 
whom their own good opinion is second as an actual 
necessity of comfort to the applause of others. He had 
given himself ample occasion to think otherwise, and 
yet at bottom he had always been somehow convinced 
that he was a man of delicate honor. If he had been 
wealthy he would have gone to the grave in that belief. 
And even though his sense of honor had never been so 
inelastic as he thought it, he had certainly never stretched 
it dangerously to his own opinion until yesterday. 

He had not been altogether comfortable about J. P.’s 
affair. He had employed his most charming and friend- 
ly eloquence to entrap that feeble creature, but his glib 
arguments had appeared less convincing to himself than 
they had appeared to his confiding victim. Even in the 
moment of his triumph he had not found it in his heart 
to be proud of his victory. He had felt it to be a little 
unworthy of him, too easy a game, as if a grown man 
should have set his wits to the conquest of a child. 

How, beginning bit by bit to reconstruct his shattered 
habitat, he thought it quite bitter to remember that what 
was best and kindest in him had lured him to this intol- 
erable abyss of self -contempt. But for his pity for that 
weak-backed scapegoat he could never have taken the 
plunge. He had meant, of course, to take it with little 
harm to himself. Standing on the solid rock of honor 
he saw the waters of shame before him, and beyond them 
another shelf of solid honor, a little lower down, per- 
haps, but lofty enough to afford dryshod going, and use- 
ful for all practical purposes. He was but to have taken 
a dip and out again. He had certainly not counted on 
being forcibly made free of the Dismal Swamp by any 
monster native to it. 

There are few things more curious in this strange 


134 


A, DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


world than the complete blindness which afflicts the 
shrewdest men when they survey the manifestations of 
their own character. If Esden’s temptation had crossed 
him under circumstances which would have prevented 
it from becoming more than a remote speculation, he 
would have been honestly indignant at the notion that 
it could ever have developed into a temptation at all. 
But when he had entrapped J. P. into signing that bill 
he had known himself guilty of a meanness. The pro- 
ceeds of that bill had gone to pay liabilities meanly ac- 
cumulated, for it is not the act of a man of honor to 
incur gambling debts beyond his power to meet. These 
infractions of his ideal had each cost him a twinge of 
conscience, but they had not seriously shaken his belief 
in himself as a man of honor. That facile mind of his, 
and his quick adaptiveness, had reconciled him to him- 
self in almost no time ; and even when he had descended 
to the depth of appropriating Miss Pharr’s property, the 
act was hardly an hour old before he had begun to jus- 
tify himself. 

Five minutes before its accomplishment the deed was 
not so much as dreamed of. He had missed Wootton 
Hill by pure accident, absorbed in painful thought. The 
Boomer would have been a safe draw if he could have 
found him, but malicious fate had ordered otherwise, 
and he saw nothing before him but ruin and exposure. 
J. P. would talk, the affair would come to the ears of 
Mrs. Wyncott, Miss Pharr would learn of it, the golden 
visions of the last few days would crumble. He had 
taken his way across the fields from Hemsleigh in a state 
of almost absolute despair. 

Whatever Wyncott Esden wanted he wanted very 
much indeed, and he always wanted it at once. He 
had been used to consider this characteristic in himself 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


135 


as a sign of mental concentration, an evidence of force. 
It lent a certain wild impatience to his wishes, and really 
did justify his opinion of it at times, because it spurred 
him on to their accomplishment. It brought an added 
misery to him now, and he dashed himself against the bars 
which he had himself so painstakingly forged and fixed. 

When he reached the house he had seen its inhabi- 
tants gathered upon the lawn, and the memory of that 
accursed tool of Gale’s, and the fact that the jewels lay 
so easily within his reach, had come upon him with a rush 
which was at once horrible and irresistible. There was 
something altogether diabolical, he thought afterwards, 
in the manner in which the temptation was thrown into 
his way, and in which all obstacles to the crime seemed 
removed. He would not rob Miss Pharr. Honestly, 
from the very bottom of his soul, he recoiled from the 
mere thought of it. How could a man of his birth and 
breeding endure to be a thief ? But, with the jewels in 
his hands, he could extract a loan, which should take 
the shape of a reward. He would repay it scrupulously, 
every farthing. The case was desperate — the time was 
brief. Almost before he knew it he was slinking guilt- 
ily under the shelter of the hedges with the stolen jew- 
els in his dressing-bag. Ho, no. Hot stolen. Borrowed! 

He got back to his chambers in London in a mad whirl 
of shame and guilt and triumph and fear. The reflec- 
tion of his own face in the glass there horrified him, and 
he had to spend an hour in an effort — so intent that at 
times it grew hysterical — to controj his shaken nerves. 
After all, he found his natural mental processes his own 
best medicine. There had been no theft, but merely an 
abstraction. The jewels would go back again when the 
reward was paid. His very dexterity in rescuing them 
would count with the heiress as a point in his favor. 


136 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


Then, whatever sum might be saved after the payment 
of his most pressing obligations should be rigorously 
hoarded. He was rising fast, and after his successes of 
last term would be able to command in reasonable meas- 
ure the prices of the brain-market. He resolved to live 
like an anchorite, and to work as he had never worked 
before. 

Anyway, the thing was done, and of all follies in the 
world that of crying over spilled milk is the least profita- 
ble. He wrestled with his self-contempt as he had done 
aforetime, and almost persuaded himself that he was 
blameless. He was even conscious of a vague but irri- 
tating impatience with some half-apprehended outside 
personage who was too stupid to agree with him. Once 
more to change the simile, he had embarked upon a 
comfortless voyage, but the sea looked likely to be 
smooth enough, and anyhow — vogue, la galere ! 

The discovery that he had lost one half the tool shook 
him a good deal, but he remembered the course he had 
taken across country to Sandy Park, and determined to 
hunt for it. Even if he did not find it, there was noth- 
ing in it to connect him with the crime. % Whatever other 
defects marred his character, he told himself that he suf- 
fered from no want of courage. It would be quite time 
to be afraid of danger when it loomed in sight. When 
he wrote the grieving parent’s letter, and smeared and 
crumpled the paper afterwards, he was sensible of a cer- 
tain grim humor in the situation, and he accepted this 
as a sense of self-possession and sang-froid. He resolved 
to get himself intrusted with the negotiation, and the 
thought that he would not find the other party difficult 
to deal with actually made him smile. There was a fla- 
vor of bitterness in it all, but the thing, being begun, 
had to be gone through with, and in a few months he 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


13V 


would buy back his own good opinion by repaying the 
money. The loan was informally negotiated, to be sure, 
but as for calling it a theft, or being too hard upon him- 
self in his own judgment, that was mere weakness. 

Upon these lines he had compounded with his own 
nature easily enough, but his enforced partnership with 
Gale was horrible. Gale was a low scoundrel, an habit- 
ual criminal, and but that Wyncott had seasoned his 
loathing of him by a humorous contempt, he would have 
found his first private interview with the rascal scarcely 
tolerable. And now that his partnership with Gale made 
his own plan doubly difficult, there were moments when 
it seemed less impossible to return the jewels and plead 
for terms with the people whose confidence he had out- 
raged than to consummate this hideous marriage of in- 
terest. Gale’s partnership made the whole thing look 
like a maniac’s nightmare. 

But as he walked his numbed mind began to move 
again. The ignoble comedy of which he was to have 
been the sole actor and the only audience had to be 
played out to the end, with all possible changes of part 
and cast. But, he began to ask himself, after all, did 
Gale’s knowledge greatly matter? The reward would 
certainly have to be shared with him, and it would need 
a proportionately longer time to repay Miss Pharr. He 
was in the fellow’s hands to that extent, but when Gale 
had once got his share of the reward their connection 
would be ended, and the mere opinion of such a brute 
could matter little. This affair once concluded, they 
would never meet again. He would suffer no intimacy, 
and endure no further extortion. It was likely enough 
that Gale might threaten, but he could only hurt Esden 
by incriminating himself. Things were not so very bad 
after all. 


138 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


By the time he had arrived at this characteristic sum- 
mary of the situation he found himself at the Marble 
Arch. He called a cab, was driven to his club, and dined 
there. He was a great favorite there, as elsewhere, and 
half the clubmen who still remained in town felicitated 
him on his conduct of his last case. It had been a good 
deal of a cause celebre , and one or two of the daily 
papers had given Esden high credit for his share in it. 
He had been hailed as a rising luminary, and it had been 
prophesied of him that he would shine afar. What with 
the society of his intimates, a bottle of sound claret, and 
his o wn practised power of ejecting disagreeable thoughts, 
he grew quite jolly and voluble, and at last drove off in 
a feverish heat of factitious high spirits to keep his ap- 
pointment with Gale. This brief respite brought its in- 
evitable reaction, and he felt wretched enough as he 
mounted his staircase in Elm Court, and lit the gas in 
his sitting-room. 

He closed the inner door, and then, stepping with 
exaggerated caution, went into his bedroom and drew 
down the blinds. Returning, he lit a candle, and, shad- 
ing the light with his hand, stole back to the bedroom, 
glancing involuntarily from left to right as if in dread 
of some hidden presence. Then, setting the candle on a 
chest of drawers, he unlocked the great travelling-trunk 
in which he had deposited the jewels. His heart knocked 
at his ribs, and his hands shook as they groped their 
way past many neatly folded articles of clothing until 
they reached the bottom of the trunk. Then he gave a 
sudden gasping cry, and fell to emptying the chest so 
wildly that he covered half the floor of the room with its 
scattered contents. The plain morocco case was gone. 

How long he knelt there he could not have told. He 
seemed blind and dumb and altogether empty, and when 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW, 


139 


he first came back to himself he was sweating and treim 
bling from head to foot, and ragged patches of variously 
colored light were floating before his eyes. Slowly as 
these fiery patches faded one fixed object impressed itself 
upon his senses. It fascinated him even before he rec- 
ognized its nature. He took it with a shaking hand. 
An envelope. There were marks upon it. He read 
them slowly, and their meaning penetrated slowly to 
his mind. “W. Esden, Esquire.” He stared at the 
words, kneeling still, until quite automatically he broke 
the seal, and unfolded a piece of paper. 

“Respected Sir [he read there], — The stones are quite safe in my 
hands. I have a plan to make everything square, and I am not going 
to have a chance like this wasted. Your obdt. servant, R. Gale.” 

He did not altogether understand, but he knew vague- 
ly that he was horribly entrapped. His first awaking 
seemed singular, even to himself. Holding the note in 
one hand, he took the candlestick in the other, and waded 
across the garments he had scattered about the room into 
the adjoining chamber. There, by the aid of the gaslight, 
he reread Gale’s brief note, with a futile and dreamlike 
feeling that the clearer light would help him to under- 
stand it better. 

The first thought that came definitely to his mind was 
that he had become unescapably a felon. He realized 
that so clearly that he would have had a poignant pity 
for any other man so situated. Then on a sudden his 
mind cleared, and he knew that the wretch he would 
have pitied was himself. At this he groaned in a min- 
gled rage and shame, and at that very instant a knock 
sounded without. He moved swiftly in answer, and 
threw the door open with so much violence that it half 
recoiled. Gale worked himself into the little passage, 


140 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


and backed against the door until the snap of the hasp 
told him it was secured. Esden stood threateningly over 
his visitor, the pallor of his face and the savage gleam of 
his eyes noticeable even in the semi-darkness of the hall. 

“ I see you got my note, sir,” said Gale, with his husky, 
apologetic wheeze. His left hand went with a deliber- 
ate, business-like gesture to an inner pocket of his respect- 
able frock coat. For anything his face, voice, or manner 
indicated, he might have been seeking for a pocket-book 
or a handkerchief, but the deliberate left hand brought 
out a revolver, and transferred it to the deliberate right. 
“ I hope, Mr. Esden,” said Gale, “ that there isn’t going 
to be no sort of trouble betwixt you and me, sir.” 

He kept his harmless brown eyes on Esden’s face, and 
edged apologetically round him. 

“ The stones is perfectly safe, sir,” he said, as he backed 
into the room, “ and honor between thieves has always 
been my motto, Mr. Esden. You can trust ’em with me 
as safe as you could the Bank of England.” 

If there was any one manner possible which could 
have seemed more horrible than another to Esden’s 
mind, Gale might have chosen his own of malice afore- 
thought. 

The visitor spoke from within the sitting-room, and 
Esden, with his hands twining in his hair, leaned his 
forehead against the side of the hall. Then, as if some 
will independent of his own inspired him, the barrister 
plucked his wits together and marched into the room. 

“ My good sir,” he said, quietly, though a sick, cold 
tremor at his midriff had an effect upon his voice, and 
made it shaky and spasmodic — “ my good sir, you have 
counted without your host.” 

“ Perhaps, sir,” Gale answered, mildly. “ I don’t see 
it as yet, Mr. Esden, if you’ll excuse me saying so.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


141 


“ Then,” said Esden, with a throbbing voice, “you shall 
see it ! What I did, I did for a purpose, and nothing that 
you can do — you had best understand me clearly — noth- 
ing that you can do shall hurry me beyond it.” 

Gale seeming suddenly to remember his hat, removed 
it from his head and set it on the table. 

“ I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, indicating it with a 
little wave of the revolver. 

“ I took those jewels,” said Esden, forcing himself to 
quiet, “ because I wanted money, and because I thought 
that I could take them safely. I knew a reward would 
be offered, and I knew that the negotiations would be 
trusted to my hands. I meant to repay the reward, 
and I mean it still. If it should come to a question of 
making a clean breast of it and taking my chance at 
the next assizes, or to entering into a criminal partner- 
ship with you, my mind is made up already. If the 
jewels are not returned to me within an hour I shall 
take a hansom down to Wootton Hill and tell the story. 
Before doing that I shall wire to Scotland Yard that 
the stones are in your possession.” 

While Esden spoke Gale had gently sidled into a seat, 
and the barrister, at the moment at which he announced 
his desperate intention, had flung himself into another. 
The honest tradesman, without verbal answer, cocked a 
mildly inquiring eye at the note which lay almost be- 
neath his hand upon the table. He read it slowly as if 
unfamiliar with its contents, and then, crumpling it into 
a ball,, set it between his teeth, and began to masticate 
it, with very much the air of a ruminating ox. 

“ It’ll be as well,” he explained, when he had reduced 
the paper to a pulp, “ not to ’ave anything about to tell 
stories. You see, Mr. Esden,” he pursued, respectively 
chewing the cud and toying abstractedly with his re- 


142 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


volver, “ that wouldn’t be, if you’ll allow me the liberty 
to say so, anything like what you might call a reason- 
able game. I shouldn’t like to boast of my advantages 
with anybody, Mr. Esden, and least of all with a gentle- 
man as I owe so much to the efforts of. But, you see, 
sir, if I might be allowed to put it plain ” — here he 
swallowed the paper pellet with a gulp — “ I might p’int 
out, sir, as between a man armed and a man unarmed, 
argument is not level, so to speak. Besides that, sir, 
your bird is in the bush and mine is in the ’and. I don’t 
want to say anything but what is civil and respectful, 
but if you was to do what you propose, Mr. Esden, what 
is there to injure me from going to Mr. Joseph Prickett 
of Scotland Yard, and saying 4 Joseph, I’m tired of be- 
ing suspected and wanted. Mr. Wyncott Esden was the 
gentleman as I given that tool to. Mr. Wyncott Esden 
comes to me along o’ you this afternoon, and makes a 
bargain with me under your very nose, and then to- 
night he brings me the jewels, and asks me to get ’em 
on the market for him. But being sick of being ’unted 
and suspected, here they are, and I shall look to the 
lady to do the fair thing by me.’ Now, Mr. Esden, sir, 
I put it to you, what is there in the ’ole wide world to 
prevent me from doing such a thing as that ?” 

“ You may do what you like,” said Esden, desperately. 
44 If the jewels are not back in an hour from now I shall 
wire to Prickett and I shall go down to Wootton Hill 
and tell the story. I give you one minute to make your 
mind up.” 

He rose as he spoke, and, advancing to one of the 
windows, laid a hand upon the fastening. Gale follow- 
ing, interposed himself between Esden and the window, 
shouldering his companion unceremoniously on one side. 

44 1 beg your pardon, Mr. Esden,” he said, in a tone 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


143 


curiously quick and arbitrary, “ but I wouldn’t do that 
if I was you.” 

“I only wanted air, you fool!” Esden answered, 
angrily. 

“ You’ll do without air for a little while, sir,” Gale 
responded, with a dogged resumption of his former re- 
spectful tone. “You go and sit down in that there 
chair again. I’m sure as you and me can get through 
this here business without quarrelling. “An ’en is a 
stupid sort of a fowl, ain’t it, Mr. Esden ? and even an 
’en has the brains not to cackle before she’s laid her 
egg. Bite first and bark when you’ve done it, that’s 
always been my motto. Suppose I was to give you a 
minute to make up your mind, sir ? Suppose I was to 
give you five, Mr. Esden ? There’s neither of us in an 
’urry. Suppose you say five ? You sit down and think 
it over, sir.” 

“You ate that note,” said Esden, in a miserable, un- 
availing rage, “to destroy the only evidence I had 
against you.” 

“ Why, yes, sir,” Gale returned, distorting his face to 
scratch with the more convenience at one of his little 
bits of side whiskers, “ that was what I done it for. 
We said five minutes, didn’t we?” 

He pulled out a bulbous watch, and nursed it in the 
palm of his left hand. In the dead silence which fell 
upon the chamber the watch seemed to tick as loudly 
as an eight-day timepiece. Esden, leaning back in his 
chair with an expression of sullen resolution, was so 
empty in heart and mind that he found nothing better 
to do than to count the tickings. He got consciously 
to fifty, and there his mind sank into a momentary 
swoon of oblivion. A minute later he found himself 
back again. A hundred and ten, a hundred and eleven, 


144 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


a hundred and twelve. The unobtrusive little mental 
sentinel once set on duty had gone on listening and 
counting without further order. Esden gave an irritated 
groan and changed his posture. The sentinel went off 
duty, and the entrapped man stared his future in the 
face until Gale’s wheezy voice aroused him. 

“ Good-evening, Mr. Esden. I’ll get up to Scotland 
Yard at once, if that’s your meaning. I needn’t waste 
time by going back for the stones, because in the mean- 
time you might be a -moving. While I think of it, 
though, these two doors as leads into the ’all both locks 
on the outside. I’ll see to them, and take the keys 
along with me.” 

“Tell me what you want,” said Esden. There 
seemed to be no fight left in him, and he saw that he 
was trapped beyond hope of escape. 

“ Why, that’s being reasonable, sir,” Gale answered. 
He had resumed his hat; and had risen from his seat, 
but at Esden’ s confession of yielding he uncovered him- 
self and sat down again, drawing his chair a little nearer 
to the table with a manner grown confidential. “Of 
course, sir,” he said, leaning across the table, and speak- 
ing in a husky whisper, “ it was quite reasonable in you 
to make up your mind to send ’em back again. As for 
that, a gentleman in your position might as well nobble 
the Griffin outside as steal them stones. You wouldn’t 
know what to do with it when you’d got it. But with 
me, you see, Mr. Esden, it’s quite different. In my hands 
they’ll be just like so much ready money, and I couldn’t 
find it in my ’art to part with a chance like that you 
given me.” 

“ What do you want to do?” groaned Esden. 

“Why, sir, if you come to that,” Gale answered, with 
a respectful severity, “ I want to do the reasonable, 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


145 


common-sense thing. How could a man ’ope or expect 
to prosper as threw away a chance like this ? Between 
them jewels and the reward, I should think as there’s 
six thousand safe to be divided betwixt you and me.” 

“ The reward !” Esden gasped, half rising from his 
chair. 

“ Why, Mr. Esden,” said Gale, speaking on unmoved, 
“a thousand pound — and that’s the sum as has been 
talked about — is a considerable ’andful of money. I’ve 
been thinking the ’ole thing over, sir, and without a lit- 
tle sum of ready money to set to work wuth we should 
have to chuck away the swag for half its value. I’ve 
got it all planned out as clear as daylight, and it’s as 
easy as breaking eggs, and as safe as whipping ’em.” 

“I don’t know what devilish plot you’ve hatched,” 
Esden cried, rising in a new revolt, “and I refuse to 
listen to it. Do what you will, go where you will, tell 
what tale you will, I go back to plain honor and hon- 
esty and take my chance. I may sell my soul some 
day, God knows ! but I will not bring it to market to a 
brute like you. I will not he dragged from crime to 
crime, and from baseness into baseness. Go ! You have 
my last word. Go, and do your damnedest.” 

He flung himself back again into his chair, folded his 
arms, and sat stock-still. His brain was giddy with re- 
morse and shame, and rage and terror. But after this 
passionate declaration he felt, in spite of all, as if he 
were half a man again. 

“ Yery well,” Gale said, calmly. “ It’s a hit of a pity, 
both for you and me, but if it is to be so, why, so be it. 
But I’ll just say one respectful w r ord to you, Mr. Wyn- 
cott Esden, afore I go, because you touch me on a ten- 
der point, and I’ve got my feelings as much as if I was 
a gentleman. You talk about me dragging you into 
10 


146 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


crime, sir. Now, that’s neither fair nor reasonable, and 
I shall ’ope as you’ll withdraw them words. It’s just 
what I might ha’ said myself to you. When I was 
a-standing in that there dock, Mr. Esden, I made a 
solemn promise to myself as if I got off I’d done my 
last bit of night-work — my last bit of any sort of work 
barring honest labor. I begun to see as the cross game 
wasn’t good enough. I’m getting old, for one thing, 
and my nerves ain’t what they used to be. There was 
never no real need to waste lead on that there butler, 
and five year ago I should never have dreamt of it — no, 
nor yet two year ago ! I’d swore off, that’s what I’d 
done, afore the jury said £ Not guilty,’ and there warn’t 
a day till yesterday as I didn’t say ‘ No ’ to it, though 
I ’ave ’ad a pretty ’andsome ’eap of chances offered to 
me. But in this case the thing’s done already, and if 
you won’t take the chances, Mr. Esden, you’ll have to 
take the consequences. I’m a poor man, and I ain’t 
going to fly in the face of Providence.” 

He had grown mournfully reproachful, and his man- 
ner indicated clearly that Esden’s conduct was a disap- 
pointment to him. 

“ It’s a million to one,” he went on, rising and mov- 
ing a step or two towards the door, “as your friends 
won’t prosecute when they know. I shouldn’t alto- 
gether like it if I thought they would. I don’t think as 
a smart gentleman like you would ha’ been such a fool 
as to a-done it a-purpose ; but your dropping that tool, 
Mr. Esden, might have made it very awkward for me if 
I couldn’t have accounted for every minute of my time 
yesterday afternoon. It was a breach of confidence, 
sir, to use that tool at all. That’s what it was. It was 
a breach of confidence, Mr. Esden. It wasn’t at all the 
kind of thing as might be looked for in a gentleman, 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


147 


and I won’t say as I don’t nurse a little bit of a grudge 
again you for it.” 

“ Oh, stop this filthy prating, man !” cried Esden, 
writhing in his self-contempt. The phrase Gale had 
used as to the chances of his friends’ forgiveness of him 
had illumined his mind like the sudden lighting of a 
torch in darkness. He saw in the glare of that new 
light the vast wave of shame that rose up to engulf him. 
He was inspired to panic, and was ready to spring to 
any refuge. 

“ Sit down again,” he said. “ Tell me your plan.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Mr. Prickett, who sat in his shirt-sleeves and slippers 
for coolness’ sake, was at breakfast next morning with 
a letter propped up against the teapot before him. 
From time to time as he worked his solid and reflective 
way through a substantial meal, he turned to the letter 
and read a line or two of it. He would not allow his 
appetite to be disturbed, but it was plain that the epistle 
puzzled him a good deal. Even when his meal was over 
he forgot to light his pipe when he had filled it, and, seat- 
ing himself in an arm-chair, he read the letter through 
for the fifth or sixth time. It was dated from Wyncott 
Esden’s chambers, and read thus : 

“ Gale has been here this evening according to prom- 
ise, but I am sorry to tell you that my interview with 
him has proved wretchedly disappointing. I am afraid 
that Miss Pharr will not only be compelled to yield to 
the grieving father’s exactions, but will have to com- 
municate with him through the advertising columns of 


148 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


the Standard. Gale is quite powerless to help us. He 
has been to the man whom he suspected, and has dis- 
covered that the tool supplied to him is intact. He can 
only conclude that a fourth implement has been made 
from his model, and that he was deceived by its resem- 
blance to his own handiwork. I thought at first that he 
might be standing out to secure terms for himself. Per- 
haps it would be as well for you to see him and form 
your own opinion upon that point, though, for my own 
part, I am pretty well convinced that he is as disap- 
pointed as I am. He told me that he had hoped to 
stand well with the police by reason of his behavior in 
this affair, and assured me that he had solemnly sworn 
to himself to go straight before the jury said 4 Hot 
guilty.’ That may be as it may, but it is certain that 
he must lose by professing ignorance, and I see no rea- 
son to doubt his bonafides. Unless I hear from }^ou to 
the contrary I shall insert an advertisement in to-mor- 
row’s paper. 4 A grieving Father. — Honor Bright. — Ad- 
dress, W. E., Esq., Oxford and Cambridge Club.’ That 
will be enough. If you care to see me I shall be in till 
noon.” 

44 Well, really,” said Mr. Prickett, 44 1 think I should 
care to see you ; and I think I’ll have a look at you at 
once. A pretty cool game you’re playing, Mr. Wyncott 
Esden, and a pretty dark game it would ha’ been, if I 
hadn’t lighted on the half of Keuben’s jemmy. But 
then I did, ye see, and that makes all the difference.” 

He took his coat from the back of a chair, and, walk- 
ing slowly to a sideboard, laid his hand upon a clothes- 
brush. 

44 1 think,” he murmured, smiling slowly and dryly to 
himself, 44 1 think I see through it. Gale is to be made 
to look as if he was clean outside it, but he is to get his 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


149 


share of the reward all the same, and Mr. Wyncott 
Esden, alias the Grieving Father, the other. We’ll try 
and be in at the distribution, Joseph, whichever way it’s 
done. They won’t be such fools as to try a check, nor 
yet notes, I should fancy, and if it’s gold they’ve either 
got to meet or have a go-between. I’ve got plenty to 
nail Mr. Esden on already, but I won’t spoil sport. He’s 
having a lark with you, Joseph, this smart young crim- 
inal barrister is. How you go in, my boy, and have 
your lark along with him, and see who comes out upper- 
most.” 

With that he began to brush his coat with great vigor, 
and having struggled into it, arranged his cuffs, collar, 
and necktie at the mirror, passed a silk handkerchief 
with much tenderness round his glossy silk hat, and 
walked leisurely Strandward, putting on his smart yel- 
low gloves as he went. In due time he reached the 
Temple, and mounting smilingly the stairs which led to 
Esden’s chambers, knocked at the door and waited, with 
his face suddenly grown as impassive as a wall. A mid- 
dle-aged laundress answered to his summons, and Esden, 
hearing his voice in inquiry, called to him to enter. 

Prickett obeyed, and paused with a look of concern as 
he saw Esden lying on the sofa with his face half swathed 
in linen wraps. 

“ Humbug !” he thought within himself. “ Bit shook 
at the notion of facing me. Wants to have something 
else to put it on to, in case I notice it.” 

Hone the less he inquired with friendly seeming solici- 
tude the reason of this sign of his host’s indisposition. 

“ Toothache and neuralgia,” said Esden, drawing aside 
the bandage. “ Look here.” One side of his face was 
quite dark and swollen. If I am sleepless or worried 
the confounded thing often gets at me in this way, and 


150 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


sometimes makes me a spectacle for days. There’s a 
beastly draught in my bedroom, too, which makes the 
thing worse than it would have been.” 

He had passed a dreadful night, but the physical pain 
awakened — as it not infrequently is in men of nervous, 
sensitive organization — by his mental troubles, had been 
almost welcome to him. He hailed it now, at least, for 
he felt his nerves so shattered that without it he would 
have been powerless to hold a screen between Prickett’s 
calmly inquiring eye and his own spiritual miseries. 
Prickett, at the sight of the blackened and swollen jaw 
and temple resigned his first opinion, and decided that if 
this were the result of worry the cause must needs have 
been remarkable. 

“ If you ain’t able to talk about this affair now, you 
know, Mr. Esden,” said Prickett, sympathetically, “ there 
is no reason in the world why I should wish you. It 
seems as if we’d come to a standstill for a minute. I’ve 
had inquiries made the whole neighborhood round, and 
can’t get news of any suspicious-looking character being 
seen about at the time.” 

“Oh!” said Esden, sitting up and propping his sore 
head gingerly on the palm of his hand, “ I’m quite well 
enough to talk. Anything that interests me drives the 
pain away. Gale’s square, I think. You see,” he added, 
“he has as strong an inducement of self-interest to be 
honest as he has to be dishonest. He could share the 
reward by telling what he knows just as well as by hid- 
ing it. Then I see no reason to doubt him when he says 
that he is anxious to get into your good books.” 

“Well,” Pricket assented, with a look of having con- 
sidered the theme all round, “that sounds reasonable 
enough. He might be working on the party’s fears, but 
then it’s evident that whoever done that job hasn’t got 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


151 


many ;fears to work on. It was done in daylight, and 
pretty bold and resolute.” 

“ Certainly the blackguard’s plucky,” Esden groaned. 

It was of course Mr. Prickett’s cue for the present to 
be to the guilty Esden absolutely what he would have 
been if Esden had been all he tried to seem. It would 
have been natural to have directed all reasonable sus- 
picion towards Gale in the latter case, and the detective 
was by far too cunning to neglect it now. 

“ I don’t say, Mr. Esden,” he remarked, with an argu- 
mentative air, “ that Gale isn’t playing the straight game 
this time. As a matter of fact, I think he is, but I 
wasn’t so blooming green neither as to let him do what- 
ever he liked last night without* knowing pretty well 
what he was up to. I promised him I wouldn’t have 
him shadowed, but on my way home it came into my 
mind that I was doing rather a foolish kind of thing. 
If you’ll believe me, Mr. Esden, it almost turned me sick 
when I thought about it. There was I, leaving Reuben 
to work on the man as probably had the stones in his 
possession, giving him free leave as like as not to work 
up a plan for getting ’em on the market, and going halves 
in what they sold for, instead of merely splitting the re- 
ward.” 

“ By Jove, yes !” cried Esden, “ that was an oversight.” 

“ I should think it was an oversight,” said the dupli- 
cious Prickett, with face, voice, and manner expressive 
of his self-contempt for having made it. “ A promise is 
a thing as I abhor to break, Mr. Esden, but last night I 
had to do it. I know the man as Reuben went to, and 
I know that neither him nor yet his set was active the 
day before yesterday.” 

“Lucky,” thought Esden to himself, “ that Gale made 
that pretended call.” He shook to think on what gos- 


152 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


samer threads his own safety seemed to hang. If Gale 
had come straight to him without making that astute 
and self-protective pretence, suspicion might have fixed 
on him a claw not to be loosened. Even while the 
wheel this thought set whirling in his head was still 
spinning, he had wit enough to know that no man but 
himself and Gale could tell how much he merited sus- 
picion, but his nerves were all on edge, and his will was 
unstrung, and the thought was nothing less than fearful 
to him. 

“So I conclude, you see,” pursued Prickett, “that 
Reuben knew no better, and was doing his best for us. 
But all the same, he’s a little bit more than slippery, 
Mr. Reuben is ; and I don’t want to have him any deeper 
in the know than I can help.” 

“ I suppose,” said Esden, shaking inwardly a little at 
his own daring, “ that you’ll keep an eye upon him ?” 

“ Lord bless your soul ! What for, sir ?” Prickett an- 
swered. “ He’s shot his bolt. There isn’t a suspected 
man in London, not of Reuben’s standing anyway ,as we 
don’t keep an eye on more or less. I mean to go down 
and have a talk to him, but I don’t think he’s in it. The 
grieving father’s the only lay to go on for a compromise. 
Of course, if we waited we should have a chance of nail- 
ing ’em when they began to move, but if the thing is to 
be kept quiet, sir, I don’t see anything for it but to put 
in that advertisement. That’ll get it over pretty soon.” 

Now Mr. Prickett, in pursuit of that unsleeping prac- 
tice of mental photography of which he boasted, had 
allowed his eyes to wander with their accustomed in- 
quiry over every visible inch of the apartment he sat in. 
His habit served him well in one case, he was sure, and 
he fancied that it might serve him as well in another if 
he could find means to employ a test for it. Point the 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


153 


first was simple, and was open to any casual eye or any 
searching and suspicious investigation. It was neither 
more nor less than a flat bruise on the jamb of the door 
which led to Esden’s bedroom. The indentation was 
quite shallow and fiat, and it had flat edges to it, as if 
made by the pressure of a small crowbar, finely finished. 
It was in fact identical with the mark upon the wooden 
cornice of the cupboard in Miss Pharr’s bedroom. 

“ An experiment?” thought Prickett. “Was he fool 
enough for that ?” His face betrayed nothing, and his 
eye never once travelled back to the sign he had dis- 
covered. 

Point number two was a little more complex and in- 
ventive. On the table stood a massive electro -plated 
writing - stand, with a great square glass inkstand in it, 
filled with dark violet ink. On the mantelpiece, pushed 
half behind a turned wooden vase of spills, was a com- 
mon penny bottle marked “ Blue-black Writing Fluid,” 
and a pen lay beside it. 

“ If I might take the liberty, sir,” said Mr. Prickett, 
rising, “to take one of these ’ere sheets of paper, I’d 
write out that advertisement and drop it at the office 
now.” 

“ Certainly,” said Esden. “ I can think of nothing bet- 
ter to be done, and if you approve of it it had best be 
done at once.” 

Prickett, with a half -sheet of paper in his hand, saun- 
tered to the mantelpiece, took up the pen that lay there, 
dipped it, and formed a single initial “ A ” upon the pa- 
per. The ink was pale, and had evidently been watered. 
Prickett, with his immovable, quiet face, looked into the 
mirror which stood before him, and caught Esden’s 
glance reflected there. 

“ Shall we spell 6 grieving ’ as the cove himself does, 


154 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


sir?” he asked. He spells it ‘ei,’ but I suppose he’ll un- 
derstand if we put it right for him.” 

Esden fell back upon the sofa with a groan. For one 
minute his nerves had been so strung that their tension 
was unbearable, but Prickett had evidently noticed noth- 
ing, as, indeed, why should he ? and he was at ease again, 
except for the physical pang his nervous tremor had oc- 
casioned. 

“ Let us preserve our self-respect,” he said, trying to 
smile. “ Let us spell correctly.” 

“All right, sir,” said Prickett, bending anew above 
the paper. He wrote, and read out the words, “ A Griev- 
ing Father. Honor Bright. Address, W. E., Esq., Ox- 
ford and Cambridge Club,” and having waved the paper 
to and fro in the air, he folded it, and bestowed it in 
one of the pockets of his sprigged white waistcoat. “ I’ll 
leave that as I go down,” he said, “ and I suppose the 
affair will come to a finish pretty soon. It’s a bit of a 
pity though, sir, ain’t it ?” 

“ What is a pity ?” Esden asked, in a voice of impa- 
tient pain. He was really suffering, and felt a fierce 
gladness and relief at his own pain. Without it he 
would have feared at every moment lest he might be- 
tray himself. 

“ Why, from my point of view, sir,” Prickett urged, 
“it would certainly have been a good deal prettier to 
nail the thieves. It would have paid me better, every 
way. I can’t help thinking, sir, as it’s weak-minded to 
act as we’re a-doing. It’s against the law, as we both 
know very well, though, of course, it’s as common as 
daylight. But with a bit of patience, it’s a hundred 
to one we should have had ’em. And now they get 
off scot-free, with a thousand pounds in their pockets. 
It’s a bit hard lines to have seen a chance like this, to 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


155 


have been actually put on the job, and then for it all to 
come to nothing. But it’s the way of the world, sir. 
Sweets and bitters, and a lot more bitters than sweets.” 

<k You may be pretty sure you won’t be neglected, 
Prickett,” Wyncott answered. “ I shall make it my 
business to point out to Miss Pharr that without your 
consent she could not have adopted the course you have 
taken.” 

“ I am very much obliged to you, I’m sure, Mr. Es- 
den,” Prickett answered, with sardonic imperturbability. 
“ You’ll let me know, sir, when you get an answer from 
this party ” — tapping at his waistcoat pocket. “ When 
it comes to actual negotiations and you’ve got to meet 
the folks you’re dealing with, I may be able to give you 
a tip or two.” 

“Very likely,” Esden answered,* with assumed care- 
lessness and inward thanksgiving. “ I’ll write to Miss 
Pharr this afternoon, and tell her that the advertisement 
will appear.” 

“ When the time comes, sir,” said Prickett, pursuing 
his confidential and unsuspicious policy the more keenly 
now that his last rag of doubt had vanished; “when 
the time comes, you’ll find as the parties won’t take notes 
for fear of being traced by ’em afterwards. They’ll 
want g6ld. Now that makes the negotiation dangerous. 
You can’t trace a sovereign like you can a note. This 
grieving father dodge might be neither more nor less 
than a bold stroke to get a thousand pounds as well as 
the jewels. Don’t you go unarmed, Mr. Esden. I’ve 
got a beautiful little revolver, a Tranter, no prettier 
thing going. I’ll bring it down with me, if you will name 
a moment when I can call. Say to-morrow morning?” 

“ By all means, Prickett,” Esden answered. “ I am 
greatly obliged to you for the suggestion. I might never 


156 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


have thought of it myself. Bring it down by all means. 
I shall be in till midday.’’ 

Prickett took his leave, respectfully sympathetic for 
the neuralgia and toothache, and walked soberly down- 
stairs, and soberly on into Fleet Street. There he made 
a call at a gunmaker’s shop, and was received by the man 
in charge with a cordiality not unmixed with worship. 

“ Called about the revolver, Mr. Prickett ?” the shop- 
man asked him when their greetings were over. “ You’ll 
find it work as smooth as a watch now, sir.” 

“ I want a word with you in private,” Prickett an- 
swered; and the man, leading him to an inner room, 
closed the door and motioned him to a seat. “ I want 
that revolver,” pursued Prickett, in an undertone cau- 
tiously measured, “to be loaded with half a dozen car- 
tridges that won’t fire. You can either take the pow- 
der or the fulminate out of them, but I want ’em to look 
as good as gold.” 

This particular gunmaker may have been used to cu- 
rious orders. He expressed no surprise at Prickett’s 
command, but undertook it smoothly, and shook hands 
with his customer as he went away. 

Prickett’s unmoved exterior may possibly have belied 
his internal sensations, but, whether with ease or diffi- 
culty, he kept the look of one w r ho is bound upon the 
average every-day business of his fife. He dropped in 
gravely at the advertisement office of the Standard, and 
there copied the inscription he carried in his waistcoat 
pocket, paid the sum demanded of him, entered the 
amount in his pocket-book, and then walked on to Gale’s 
shop in Ilolborn. 

Gale was behind his counter, looking, if anything, a 
trifle more respectable and mild than usual, faultless in 
linen, and scrupulously clean shaven. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


157 


“ Morning, Keuben,” said Prickett, with the manner 
of one who is chastened by defeat. 

“Good-morning, Mr. Prickett,” Gale returned, in a 
voice which was the very sympathetic echo of the other’s. 

“This is a bit of a disappointment to you, ain’t it, 
Keuben ?” he asked. 

“Well, I won’t say that, sir, not yet,” Gale answered. 
“ I can see as you’ve ’eard from Mr. Esden. I gave him 
a call last night, and told him what had happened. 
About them there tools, now. You know, Mr. Prickett, 
I can’t tell one from another. What’s to prevent this 
last chap from havin’ borrowed a similar tool of my make 
from a pal? If so be as it should have happened as he 
should have heard as I was a-making inquiries — ” 

“Why, there’s something in that, to be sure,” re- 
turned Mr. Prickett. It would be hard to say how much 
he relished every cunning shift and stratagem upon the 
other side. Perhaps the fountain of humorous percep- 
tion tasted the sweeter to him because he did not dare 
to allow the escape of a solitary bubble. “ I like to hear 
you talking like that, Keuben, because I must admit that 
that sounds square. I don’t say I shouldn’t have thought 
of it myself. I don’t even say I didn’t. But, all the 
same, I ain’t sorry to hear you own as much. But if 
you still think you’ve got a chance of doing anything, 
I’ve come to tell you as it’s got to be done to-day. I 
sha’n’t tell you why, because it’s no business o’ yours to 
know it, but after to-day this show ’ll dry up. If you 
hadn’t been so greedy, Keuben, you might ha’ done some- 
thing. You fixed your mind on getting all you could 
lay your claws on, and so you don’t get anything. Kow, 
what’s the tale you pitched to Mr. Wyncott Esden ? You 
want to stand well with the police ?” 

“ Keally, Mr. Prickett,” Gale responded, in a mild as- 


158 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


tonishment of self-defence, “ I don’t see how I could ha’ 
done more than I have done.” 

“ Don’t you ?” Prickett answered, with simulated dis- 
gust. “ Well, I’ll tell you. You might ha’ took me into 
confidence. ‘ So and So and So,’ you might have said, 
‘ is the three chaps I made the tools for. Now, in place 
of setting them colloguing together, and giving them a 
chance among ’em to replace that missing joint, we’ll go 
at ’em altogether simultaneous, so to speak, and the man 
as can’t produce his is the man to speak to.’ The 
young lady as owns these jewels don’t want a prosecu- 
tion. You and me might very well have been partners 
in this matter, but you was too greedy, and that’s all 
about it. You’re like the monkey as got his hand into 
the jar and tried to fetch out too much at a time. You’ve 
lost yourself two or three hundred, and you’ve lost me 
two or three hundred, and that’s all the good your self- 
ishness has done you.” 

“ It’s never been my way, Mr. Prickett,” Gale wheezed 
at him, “ to set your people on to anybody. It wasn’t 
greed, Mr. Prickett, it was only because I wanted to do 
as I’d be done by. That’s always been my motto.” 

“ ’Specially with butlers,” Prickett answered, acidly. 

“ Now, Mr. Prickett,” cried Gale, “ I beg your pardon, 
sir, but I cannot ’ave that kind of talk. I was found 
‘Not guilty’ by a verdict of my countrymen, and that 
ought to be enough for any man.” 

“ Perhaps it had, Reuben,” Prickett answered, “ per- 
haps it hadn’t. Perhaps you was lucky; perhaps you 
got the reward of your merits. But there’s no two ways 
about this ; you’ve bungled the present business through 
being too graspin’. You’ve put me out of the way of 
making a pretty fair handful of money, and you’ve lost 
what you might have made yourself.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


159 


Gale protested against this view of things, and urged 
his cause with an interior satisfaction which rivalled 
Prickett’s own. They were a well-matched couple, and 
but for Prickett’s actual knowledge neither could have 
gained a featherweight’s advantage over the other. 

“All right, Joseph,” said Gale to himself when his 
visitor had left him. “You’ve got the needle stirring 
about already. It’ll be a little sharper in the course of 
a day or two.” 

For his part, Prickett went away with an expression 
carefully tuned to melancholy. Even in the freedom of 
the streets he preserved this dejected aspect. It would 
never have done to run the risk of any chance gossip 
taking the news to Gale that Joe Prickett had left him 
radiant. 


CHAPTER XIY. 

For the two days which followed immediately on 
the theft of the jewels, life at Wootton Hill House was 
naturally somewhat distracted and disordered, but on 
the morning of the third the post brought to Miss Pharr 
intelligence which she found of so comfortable a nature 
that, for her at least, the affair of the burglary shrank 
into its proper episodical proportions, and no longer 
threatened to absorb the whole of life and thought as it 
had done. 

“ My dear Miss Pharr,” wrote Esden. “ The chase 
upon which Prickett and I started yesterday has result- 
ed in nothing. Prickett is still confident that if the 
thieves should attempt to dispose of their booty he 

would be able to trace them, and to recover at least a 

* 

portion of it, but he admits that the cheapest and swift- 


160 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


est method will be to deal with that rascally correspond- 
ent of yours. I am decidedly of the same opinion, and, 
accepting the cmte blanche you gave me, I have already 
sent Prickett with an advertisement intended to catch 
the eye of the ‘ Grieving Father.’ You may be almost 
absolutely sure that in two days from the receipt of this 
letter the stones will be once more in your possession. 
It is a misfortune as it stands, but it might have been so 
much more serious that your friends may really con- 
gratulate you. The thieves will not, of course, enter 
into communication with the police, and you will see by 
the advertisement at or near the top of the Standard's 
second column that the 1 Grieving Father ’ is invited to 
correspond with me.” 

This letter, read aloud at the breakfast-table, sent ev- 
erybody to the agony column, and the ladies looked 
at the innocent-seeming announcement with romantic 
thrills, thinking how much it covered. There was an 
advertisement just above it which stated that Jack was 
dying for news of his own Heart’s Queen, and that the 
old address would find him. There was another below 
it requesting the golden-haired lady who alighted at 
Shepherd’s Bush at five twenty to communicate at 231 
Vigo Street with the gentleman who carried an umbrel- 
la with an agate knob. 

“ Even these,” cried Janet, her gray'eyes widening as 
if to take in the whole scope of the world’s possible vil- 
lainies, “may be covert assignations from burglars to 
their comrades.” 

The ladies tressilated deliciously. The crime began to 
take an air of romance. The gardener slept in the base- 
ment of the house for its extra safety, and the local offi- 
cer was pampered to keep a special eye upon the prem- 
ises. With these precautions the feminine inmates of 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


161 


the house felt no more sense of danger than was just 
agreeable. They had fallen into a habit of peering sin- 
gly into cupboards and under beds in the daytime, and 
they made the like perquisitions in a bevy at night be- 
fore retiring to rest. Miss Pharr was the only one who 
suffered, and she bore her loss so bravely that the others 
had no heart to reproach her. For her own part she 
was so glad at the prospect of escaping so lightly that 
to lose a thousand pounds in such a fashion as was pro- 
posed looked to her like the making of a most glorious 
bargain. 

Wyncott’s letter was not the only one which arrived 
for Janet that morning. There lay for a while un- 
touched beside her plate a missive addressed to her in 
the easily recognized characters of the “ Grieving Fa- 
ther.” She eyed it with distaste, and perhaps might 
not have opened it at all but for a dreadful suggestion 
from Edith. 

“ The wretch may have changed his mind, my dear,” 
she said. “ He may write to say that the jewels are dis- 
posed of already.” 

At this Janet laid reluctant fingers upon the envelope, 
and hastily tore it open. The writer intimated that he 
had looked in vain in that day’s paper for an answer to 
his former letter. “ Please look sharpp,” he added. “ My 
son wil not wate longer than Fryday morning.” 

“He has seen the advertisement before now,” said 
Arnold. “He would probably be up at four or five 
o’clock in the morning to get a copy of the paper at the 
office. Wyncott may have a letter from him in an 
hour or two at the club, and will wire us the news 
directly.” 

“Well, Janet, lass,” said the old doctor, “a thousand 
pounds is a thousand pounds ; but you’re not ruined by 

11 


162 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


it, and ye’re lightlier through the bes’ness than we might 
have hoped to see ye. Wyncott’s right when he says 
that, after all, your friends may well congratulate ye.” 

“ I don’t deserve to be congratulated at all,” Janet 
declared, stoutly adhering to her original view of the 
question. “ 1 am quite rightly served for my own silli- 
ness and vanity, and I am sure that I beg everybody’s 
pardon with all my heart for the . trouble I have given 
them.” 

“ In that case,” said the doctor, “ I’ll just get back to 
my interrupted operations, and, indeed, I’m bold to make 
confession that I’ve not been actually idle all the time. 
I’m getting auld, Janet, and I’ve not much time to waste, 
either for science or pleasure. I’ve been working in my 
own room, printing, and a beautiful light I’ve had for it. 
If you’re in want of further lessons,, Edith,” he continued, 
twinkling slyly at the old maid, “ I’ll be ready for ye in 
my studio in half an hour.” 

Edith responded to this invitation by a half -repressed 
smile, which looked as if it might have had a meaning 
in it. The doctor withdrew to his own quarters, his sa- 
gacious gray brows twitching, and his kindly gray eyes 
twinkling with some hidden sense of humor. Beside his 
bed-chamber the old gentleman had had rigged up for 
himself a room in which he could carry on his beloved 
processes. It was cleared of furniture except for a pair 
of kitchen tables and a chair or two. One of the ta- 
bles was covered with shallow enamelled pans full of 
water, and the other bore a litter of negatives and ap- 
paratus. He pottered about here for a full half of his 
time, as happy in the pursuit of his favorite occupation 
as a child, and produced results sometimes of wonderful 
delicacy and beauty. 

“I should have thought,” said Janet, when he had 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


163 


disappeared, “ that you, Edith, were beyond taking les- 
sons from anybody, even from Dr. Elphinstone.” 

“ Perhaps,” the old maid answered, newly struggling 
to keep down that obdurate smile which would come to 
the surface, “ I may be able to give him lessons, though 
bis vanity would never allow it.” 

Before the time appointed had expired she knocked at 
the door of Elphinstone’s workroom, and, being bidden 
to enter, obeyed, and closed the door somewhat myste- 
riously behind her. The old gentleman was in his shirt- 
sleeves, and had his lean brown arms bared to the elbow. 
His hands were dripping, and as Edith approached him 
he took up a towel to dry them. 

“ I’ve neither chick nor child, nor kith nor kin, as I 
was telling ye last night when your mother broke in 
upon us,” he began. “ I’ve meant, ever sence the two 
lads were’s high as that table, that if the two of them 
should last out my time, I’d divide my worldly belong- 
ings between them. But at my time o’ life, having re- 
sisted the wiles o’ your sex for seventy years, I’m not 
going to fall a vectim now.” 

“ How in what sense, Dr. Elphinstone,” Edith demand- 
ed, “ are you asked to become a victim ?” 

“ I’ve been a sturdy contemner and enemy of your 
wiles and ways my life long,” returned the doctor, “ and 
it’s like a wumman’s impudence to think she can turn 
me from my path by just wheedling her finger at 
me.” 

“ But who wants to turn you from your path ?” she 
asked, with a humorous desperation. 

“Miss Wyncott’s self,” the doctor answered. “Ye 
want to make a match-maker o’ me in my auld age — I 
that have fought on the side of single-blessedness, and 
maybe bled for the cause ! I’ll not say that I haven’t 


164 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


been scratched for it years ago. And now I’m to turn 
recruiting agent for the other side.” 

“ Surely,” said Edith, “ you don’t advocate the univer- 
sal extension of our principles ?” 

“ ’Twould make but little differ if I did,” he answered. 
“ The wisest advocacy the world ever listened to would 
have but little effect in that direction. I’ll just tell ye 
what I’ll do. I’ll go so far and no farther. I’ll tell the 
lad what my intentions are. But mind ye, if Arnold 
knows it, Wyncott knows it. I’ll tell the both o’ them, 
and acquet my conscience of the whole match-making 
concern. When I’m gone they’ll have something like 
three thousand a year to divide between them, and a lad 
that has a profession between his fingers, and brains in 
his head, and fifteen hundred pounds a year to his name, 
can marry any woman and feel independent, though 
she were richer than the Queen o’ Sheba. Ef Arnold 
wants the lass,” he went on, with a humorous snappish- 
ness, “ why doesn’t he tell her so ? And if she wants him, 
Lord, my dawty, they’re a heap shyer than they used to 
be if she can’t find a way o’ showing him.” 

Edith had approached this question originally with all 
imaginable cunning and reserve. She had never expect- 
ed or intended to do more than to drop the merest femi- 
nine hint, but the doctor’s shrewd eye had pierced to the 
heart of her manoeuvre, and the old man had spoken 
straightway with a thoroughly Scottish candor and im- 
patience of subterfuge. So they were now, he and the 
old maid, in full plot together in Arnold’s behalf. The 
old medico respected the young clergyman’s indepen- 
dence, and, indeed, there was an old-world story, buried 
and forgotten for almost everybody by this time, that 
Elphinstone himself had been kept single by much such 
another scruple. He liked Wyncott well, as most peo- 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


1G5 


pie did, but he respected the parson most highly, and was 
more willing to lend him a helping hand in his love af- 
fairs than he was to assist the other. He thought Wyn- 
cott little likely to stand in need of prompting. He was 
not a young man who would lose anything by the mere 
failure to ask for it. 

“ I’ll find a chance to drop him a word,” said the doctor, 
and having secured so much, Edith retired radiant with 
hope for her two proteges. Elphin stone found no chance 
until after luncheon, and then, finding Arnold on the 
lawn, he took his arm, and invited him to a stroll. 

“ I’ve got a little something to say to ye, lad,” he said, 
“and we’ll have it out afoot. We’ll have a walk up to 
the wood together and talk by the way. It’s a lovely 
afternoon, and none too hot for exercise.” 

Arnold assenting, they set out together, but the in- 
tended friendly confidence was not to be broached that 
afternoon, for no sooner had they come upon the high- 
way than they discerned the figure of Mr. Prickett, who 
was approaching at a business-like pace. He walked up 
to within a yard of them, and then, pausing, touched his 
hat with a gloved forefinger. 

“I’m glad to have met you outside, gentlemen,” he 
said. “ I’d rather if possible not see the ladies just yet. 
I’ve something particularly serious to say, and I should 
like to say it where we can’t be observed or over- 
heard.” 

They were both a little surprised by this exordium, 
and each was conscious of a chill something which was 
almost fear, though, after their different fashions, they 
were as courageous as most men. 

“We’ll be private enough,” said the doctor, “if we 
cross yon stile and get into the fields.” 

They moved in silence until they had reached the 


166 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


middle of a thirty-acre fallow. They stood upon a little 
eminence there, and there was not a soul in sight. 

“ Gentlemen,” said Prickett, looking from one to the 
other, “ the object I’m supposed to come down here for 
is to get a check from Miss Pharr to pay the sum 
demanded by the party that stole the jewels. Now that 
might look as if this affair was coming to an end. As a 
matter of fact, it’s only just beginning. I must tell you 
gentlemen beforehand that what I’m going to say is 
going to be a heavy blow to you. I think you can both 
stand it, but it’ll take pluck, mind you, gentlemen, and 
it’s got to have it.” 

There was something so fateful, assured, and solemn 
in the man’s manner that his hearers were afraid before- 
hand, though neither had a guess of what he feared. 

“ There’s no good to be got by beating about the bush, 
sir,” Prickett continued, addressing himself to Arnold. 
The doctor noticed a sort of respectful pity in his voice 
and manner, and wondered at it. “ The plain truth of 
the matter is, gentlemen both,” said Prickett, lingering 
with a visible reluctance before he took the plunge, and 
flashing a glittering eye from one pale and attentive 
face to the other and back again — “ the plain truth of the 
matter is, gentlemen, that the person signing himself a 
‘ Grieving Father’ is Mr. Wyncott Esden.” 

Arnold shot out both hands, and, gripping Prickett by 
the lappels of the coat, shook him passionately to and 
fro without a word. Elphinstone’s kindly old face had 
gone as white as death,' but he laid a hand on each of 
Arnold’s wrists and pulled at him persuasively. 

“ There’s no use in that, lad,” he said, with a catch in 
his voice, “ no use in that.” 

“ No, sir,” said Prickett, quietly and sadly, “ there’s 
no use in that. No offence on my side, sir,” he added, 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


167 


as Arnold dropped his hands and stood half aghast and 
half enraged before him. “ I don’t wonder as you’re hit 
by it. I was hit myself ; *but I’m telling you the God’s 
truth, neither more nor less. Mr. Wyncott Esden and 
the c Grieving Father’ are one person.” 

“ Arnold,” said tlie old man, shakily, “ let me do the 
talking here. I’ he h’ard you very highly spoken of, 
Mr. Prickett, and I presume that you cannot have fallen 
into so terrible an error except upon what must look like 
strong evidence. Let us hear it.” 

“Well, gentlemen,” said Prickett, with the same re- 
lentless pity, “ if you’ll do me the honor to follow me, 
here’s the case. To begin with, it may be known to you 
or it may not, that Mr. Wyncott Esden is up to his eyes 
in debt, and a good deal troubled by his creditors. He’s 
got heaps of paper on the market that he can’t meet. 
Next, gentlemen, he was one of the few people as knew 
about the jewels, value and whereabouts. Next, on the 
afternoon of the robbery, when Mr. Wyncott Esden pre- 
tended to be in town, he was in the neighborhood at the 
very minute when the job was done.” 

“In this neighborhood!” cried Arnold. “What do 
you mean ?” 

Prickett, before replying, drew a scrap of paper from 
his pocket and placed it in Arnold’s hands. 

“ There’s a list of the trains Mr. Wyncott Esden trav- 
elled by that afternoon, sir. He paid excess fare from 
Wootton Hill to Hemsleigh when he came down, and he 
went up with a first-class single from Sandy Park to 
town again.” 

Tho two gentlemen stared at each other and at 
Prickett in a horror-stricken amaze. 

“ You can prove this ?” said Elphinstone. 

“Yes, sir,” said Prickett, “I can put the station mas- 


168 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


ters in the box if need be. When I showed Mr. Wyn- 
cott Esden the tool the job was done with, he took it 
well — as well as any man could hope to take it — but it 
shook him dreadful. When I proposed to visit Eeuben 
Gale, who made the tool, he offered to go with me, as 
you remember. He made what amounted to a bargain 
with Gale in my presence ; as clever and bold a thing, 
gentlemen, as I ever knew in my experience. Gale was 
being watched, and after Mr. Wyncott Esden and me 
had left him, Mr. Esden went back alone. My man tells 
me that he came out again ten minutes after, looking as 
if he’d got the horrors. I was in his chambers yester- 
day morning, and I wrote that out of a common penny 
bottle of watered ink as stood upon his mantelpiece.’’ 
He handed his draft of the advertisement to Elphin- 
stone. “ If you’ll compare that, sir, with the 4 Grieving 
Father’s ’ letter, you’ll find as that’s the ink it’s wrote in. 
One thing more ; the tool the job was done with was 
tried on the sitting-room door in Mr. Esden’s chambers. 
I saw the mark yesterday, and it corresponds exactly.” 

“ Great Heaven !” groaned Arnold, suddenly. “ I re- 
member. There is some horrible conjunction of circum- 
stances here. Wyncott will explain it all.” 

“ You remember?” said Elphinstone. “ What do you 
remember ?” 

“ The broken door in Wyncott’s room,” Arnold an- 
swered. “The lock was shattered. He began to tell 
me, laughingly, of a droll souvenir from a client in con- 
nection with it, but he was interrupted twice, and never 
finished the story.” 

“ When was that, sir ?” asked Prickett. 

“ It was the day,” said Arnold, turning upon Elphin- 
stone, “ on which he received my aunt’s invitation to 
spend the vacation down here.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


1G9 


“ Then it was the day after the trial of the man Gale,” 
said Elphinstone. His white face went still paler as 
he spoke. 

“ The tool was Gale’s make, sir,” said Prickett, “ and 
it might have got into Mr. Esden’s hands quite innocent 
that way.” 

“ Wyncott can explain everything,” cried Arnold, with 
a sick sinking at his heart which belied the courage of 
his words. “ There is only one thing to be done. It is 
intolerable that a man of honor should rest for an hour 
under such a suspicion as this. We will go to town and 
see him and hear his story.” 

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Prickett, “but that 
won’t do. There’s the question of the stolen property. 
One of the things is to get Miss Pharr’s jewels back. 
You understand, gentlemen, that when Mr. Wyncott 
Esden went into this thing he went into it alone. He 
was probably tempted of a sudden, because if he’d meant 
to do it when he got the tool he’d be altogether too fly 
and clever to try it on his own door, where anybody 
might see the traces. It’s as plain as paint as it was 
done for the reward, and it’s as likely as not that he’d 
have it in his mind to restore the reward, anonymous, 
when he’d pulled round. That’s how I read the case, at 
least. But now, gentlemen, Reuben Gale is in the busi- 
ness. Reuben Gale has got the young gentleman under 
his thumb, and when any gentleman has been tempted 
into crime and finds himself matched with a confederate 
like Reuben Gale, he gets the seven-leagued boot on. 
There’s no more desperate criminal in London, gentle- 
men, and if you’ll wait this out you’ll see what it means. 
I should bet a million to one, if I had got the money, 
that Reuben means to have the jewels and stick to the 
reward as well. Mr. Esden isn’t such a fool as to have 


170 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


the stolen property about him. If you get at him now 
you’ll close his mouth, and if you’ll leave it to me we’ll 
have money and jewels both back again. 

“ I won’t believe this hideous story,” broke in Arnold. 
“ I have read of cases which looked as black, or blacker, 
where the accused man’s innocence shone out at the end 
as clear as daylight.” 

“That has happened, gentlemen, no doubt,” said 
Prickett, “ and of course it may happen here. I should 
be very glad to see it happen, but it’ll come out by wait- 
ing, and by waiting only for a day or two. In the mean- 
time, gentlemen, suppose it turns out . as I believe, I 
should like to have my instructions straight and clear 
beforehand. Suppose it becomes my duty to arrest Mr. 
Wyncott Esden, what am I to do ?” 

“ Surely,” gasped Elphinstone, “ that doesn’t depend 
on us ?” He seemed to see a gleam of hope. 

“ Nobody is compelled,” Prickett answered, “ to give 
a criminal in charge. You can take a man in the act, 
and let him go, if you’re inclined to be merciful and 
want to hush the thing up. Anything short of murder 
can be kept quiet.” 

“ Then for Heaven’s sake,” said Elphinstone, “ if the 
thing’s anything more than a nightmare, keep it quiet.” 

“Will you undertake, sir, to get me them instructions 
from Miss Pharr ?” 

“ You know, in any case,” Elphinstone returned, “ that 
Miss Pharr is willing rather to pay a thousand pounds 
than have a prosecution. How much more willing is 
she likely to be if it turns out that a personal friend — 
a man she trusted— a gentleman — oh, Lord ! it’s just too 
horrible for belief.” 

“ For Heaven’s sake, Prickett,” Arnold besought the 
man in a passion of entreaty, “ don’t make it necessary 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


m 


for us to assail Miss Pharr’s ears with this terrible sus- 
picion.” 

“I was Miss Pharr’s guardian,” said Elphinstone, 
tremulously, “ until a year ago. She has been like my 
own child this eighteen years. I wouldn’t break her 
heart with such an infamy if I could save her from it by 
spending every penny I have in the world. Go and 
give the villain his check, and tell him the whole thing’s 
known, and bid him fly.” 

“ That ’d be all right, sir, if Gale weren’t in it. But 
Gale is in it, and we can’t tell where the stones have 
got to. We shall have to wait and nail them, sir, when 
we’ve proved complicity beyond a doubt. I think, sir, 
considering all the circumstances, that I can undertake 
to keep it quiet if you two gentlemen give me your 
authority alone.” 

“ You speak,” said Arnold, with a manner half wrath- 
ful, half despairing, as he turned on Elphinstone, “ as if 
this mere chain of suspicion were as fast forged as truth 
could make it.” 

“ My dear lad,” said Elphinstone, “ I don’t know what 
to think. God help us all ! I’m afraid — sore, sore afraid ! 
Everything seems to point one way. I can’t forget how 
I saw him racing hither and thither in the moonlight. 
Was he searching for the lost half of that tool?” 

“ That’s how I read it, sir,” said Prickett. “ I wouldn’t 
go back to the house just yet awhile, gentlemen,” he 
added. “ You’ll try to be as natural with the ladies as 
you can, of course. They won’t get nothing out of me, 
I’m sure. I’ve got a letter from Mr. Esden asking for 
the check ; he gave it me this morning. I’ll go up and 
present it, and get back to town.” 

“ Is it necessary,” Arnold demanded, “ to go on with 
that abominable comedy ?” 


172 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“ That’s just what it is, ain’t it, sir ?” Prickett answered, 
sympathetically. “ It’s got to be gone on with all the 
same.” 

He took his leave there, and the two gentlemen stayed 
behind, wondering, and horror-stricken. When at length 
they dared to make up their minds to return they were 
still shaken, and Elphinstone was in actual need of sup- 
port for the first hundred yards or so. But he feared 
so much lest his broken aspect should excite comment 
and conjecture that his dread actually seemed to strength- 
en him, and by the time he had reached the gate he was 
almost himself again. 

“ Come up with me to my room, lad,” he said, “ and 
sit with me awhile. I’ve need of society, and I dare not 
face the others.” 

They ascended the stairs and locked themselves in in 
the old man’s disordered workroom. 

“ I mounted that this morning,” said the doctor, touch- 
ing with a tremulous white finger a photograph which 
lay beside him. “ D’ye mind it ? It was taken at the 
very time when that sinful deed was a-doing. We little 
thought as we stood happy and laughing there that that 
poor fool, God forgive me, was handing over his soul 
to auld Horns.” 

“ I won’t believe it,” said Arnold, gloomily, “ until I 
know. I won’t permit myself even to doubt Wyncott’s 
honor. I know him better.” 

His brave words were worth nothing to him, and his 
struggles with his own inward certainty were vain. He 
took the photograph mechanically in his hands, and 
stared at it almost without seeing it, and his soul was 
bitter within him. A great monocle which the old gen- 
tleman used for the critical examination of his work lay 
near at hand. He took it up in a miserable vacancy, 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


173 


and toyed with it. He looked at the photograph through 
it, with that'interest in trifles which men feel in the su- 
preme blind misery of a great shock. On a sudden he 
rose with a loud, sharp cry, and Elphinstone, looking up, 
saw him swaying to and fro as if he were about to fall. 
The old man sprang to his feet and sustained him, and 
Arnold, guided by the helpful hands, sat down again like 
one dazed. 

“ What is it ?” asked the doctor, anxiously. 

Arnold’s eyes had suddenly gone haggard. He turned 
them with an unforgettable look upon the old man, and 
answered in a voice of shocking unconcern : 

“ It’s all over. His face is there. Behind the rho- 
dodendrons.” Elphinstone’s shaking hands clutched the 
glass and the photograph, and he half stumbled across 
the room to the window. For a little while he shook 
so that the swaying glass and trembling picture showed 
him nothing. But in a while he braced himself for the 
search, and found fixed there by a witness no less cer- 
tain than the sum itself, the face of Wyncott Esden, 
full of stealth and guilt and fear. 

He looked up, meeting Arnold’s glance, and the two 
stared at each other hopelessly. 


CHAPTER XV. 

The relief afforded to the Wootton Hill household by 
the arrival of Wyncott Esden’s letter extended its in- 
fluences to the maid Grainger. Prickett, turning things 
over in that shrewd mind of his and reconstructing the 
living, breathing crime from the few dry bones of evi- 
dence in his possession, like a moral Cuvier, still had his 


174 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


suspicion of her as being in some sense the criminal’s 
accomplice. Her fellows of the household ldoked darkly 
on her, and even in her first need of service had attended 
her unwillingly. It was not unnatural that a set of igno- 
rant domestics should look upon her loss of speech as 
a mere impudent ruse to avoid questioning. To their 
minds, as in the minds of more instructed people, agita- 
tion was a sign of guilt. A skilled practitioner at the 
keyhole carried the news of the proximate recovery of 
the jewels into the domestic quarter, and the public 
mind there grew easier about Grainger, more lenient 
and less disposed to suspicion. 

The girl herself felt this change in the moral atmos- 
phere, but found no relief in that of itself. The light- 
ening of her burden came with the discovery that her 
fellow-domestics had ceased to watch her. Being strong 
and healthy, and of a resolute character, she had suffi- 
ciently recovered from the physical shock of her fall to 
proffer a renewal of her duties within eight-and-forty 
hours. Her mistress had repulsed her offer with suffi- 
cient gentleness. Grainger evidently understood with 
perfect clearness everything that was spoken in her 
presence, but her own inability to answer cost her acute 
anguish, and her unavailing attempts to speak resulted 
often • in bursts of bitter weeping. The very character 
of her malady might have seemed to explain these rages 
of grief in a woman of vivacious temperament, but El- 
phinstone was a good deal puzzled by them, and watched 
the case with interest. 

She sat in the servants’ room a few minutes after 
Prickett’s departure from the house. The practitioner 
of the keyhole, without giving herself the pains of re- 
vealing the source of information, told her interested 
she-comrades how that Mr. Wyncott Esden was in cor- 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


175 


respondence with the thief, that Prickett had received 
a check for a thousand pounds to hand to him, and that 
the stolen property was to be brought back again. Hear- 
ing this, Grainger wrung her hands together hard, and, 
rising, walked from the room, red-eyed and pale. She 
went to her own bed-chamber, and, kneeling there in an 
attitude of complete abandonment, with her arms thrown 
at full length across the chest which held her few be- 
longings, cried without control, her whole figure writhing 
and shaking with the extremity of her mental pain. 
This paroxysm over she rose in a wretched quiet, washed 
her eyes with fair water, and stood looking out upon 
the peaceful country which lay stretched before her. 
She rested there for a considerable time, until, stung by 
a new access of grief, she knitted her fingers together 
with a groan. 

“ Merciful Heaven, what shall I do ? What can I do V 9 

Had she spoken ? Had her thought grown articulate 
again? She stood Amazed and almost terror-stricken, 
and her own voice still seemed to linger in her ear, dis- 
tinctly syllabled. She seized a summer mantle of black 
lace and hurriedly adjusted it about her shoulders, tied 
on her bonnet with fingers so tremulous that she could 
scarce command them, drew on her gloves, assured her- 
self that her meagre purse was in her pocket, and, having 
done all this with a feverish, self-hindering haste, stole 
from the room with a forced air of languor, and went 
slowly down the stairs. She passed from the house, 
walked lingeringly along the skirt of the rear lawn, 
and, rounding the line of rhododendrons, slipped through 
that wicket gate over which Prickett had leaned at the 
beginning of his moonlight search. She was all on fire 
with impatience, and would in spite of feebleness have run 
as if for life, but for her terror of being seen and stayed. 


176 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


The landscape lay at peace, the broad trees sleeping 
on their own shadow in the hot sunlight, and the road 
dazzling to her dazzled senses. The world seemed so 
silent and so wide and solitary that a fear weighed upon 
lier like that of the waste night. She might have been 
a prisoner for a year, familiar spaces had grown so vast, 
and she felt so alone and so unaccustomed to be free. 

Suddenly a burst of childish chatter greeted her ears, 
and round the bend in the road came half a dozen village 
children romping one with another. One sturdy solemn 
urchin of four or thereabouts walked bareheaded in the 
rear, intent upon a stick of licorice, solemn and phleg- 
matic as an old man. The others danced out of sight, 
and Grainger, dropping on one knee, regardless of the 
dust, reached out her hands to the child with a sup- 
pressed but passionate longing, in her face. 

“ Come to me, darling, won’t you ?” 

Had she really spoken? She could not tell. The 
child looked at her with an Oriental gravity, but made 
no answer. 

“ Dear little boy, do come to me. Won’t you, dear ? 
Won’t you?” 

“ Noa !” said the child, “ I ’on’t.” 

The girl sprang to her feet and clasped her hands. 

“ Thank God !” she said, “ thank God !” 

The child went on unmoved as if she were common- 
place in his experience. She dared to quicken her pace 
a little now, and, making for the railway station, saw 
far off the steam of an approaching train, slow with dis- 
tance. Looking fearfully round, and seeing nobody who 
recognized her or was known to her, she went on with 
a step more and more hurried. The booking-office was 
open, and she stood before it in such a terror lest her 
recovered power should again have slipped from her that 


A DANGEROUS CAT SPA W. 


177 


she was unable to form the words she sought for even 
in her mind. A rustic hustled her aside, and demanded 
a third-class return ticket for London. Those were the 
words she wanted. She feared to lose them again, and 
repeated them under her breath while the man slowly 
counted his change. She asked for her ticket, and was 
understood and served. Then she waited on- the plat- 
form till the train came up, and entered a third-class 
compartment in which one cleanly, apple-cheeked old 
country woman sat alone. 

The local train ploughed its slow way townwards, 
lounging idly through open fields or flower-strewn cut- 
tings, and pausing at every station. Again and again 
the girl turned to address her fellow-traveller, and froze at 
the fear that she could but produce an inarticulate sound. 
At last fear itself spurred her, and she spoke timidly : 

“ A beautiful day, ma’am.” 

The only response was a stare, and Grainger fell back 
in her seat with knitted hands and terror-stricken coun- 
tenance. 

“ Eh ?” said the old woman. 

“ A beautiful day, ma’am,” Grainger repeated desper- 
ately, uncertain whether she really spoke the words. 

“ Speak up,” the old woman answered, “ I’m a bit 
hard of hearing.” 

Grainger spoke again in a louder tone, and the old 
woman sent a momentary chill to her heart by staring 
harder at her than before. 

“ Beautiful day !” said the old woman ; “ and, lawk 
a-mussy me! what’s that to make a fuss about?” she 
muttered in her own corner after this, and cast suspi- 
cious glances at her travelling companion. 

“ Please don’t be afraid of me,” said Grainger, leaning 
towards her. “ Can you hear me ?” 

12 


178 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“ Law bless us ! Hear you ? Yes.” 

“ I had an accident,” the girl said, with outwardly 
subdued intensity. “ It took my speech away. I am 
not certain if it is back again. I have something so im- 
portant — oh, so important — to say in London, and I am 
afraid that I may not be able to say it.” 

“ Is that it, poor dear creetur ?” said the old woman, 
reassured, and growing motherly and sympathetic on the 
instant. “ Don’t you werrit. Your speech is as plain 
and right as ever it needs to be. You keep quiet and 
you’ll be all right, my dear.” 

The girl leaned back with a sudden gush of silent 
tears, and thence up to London she and her companion 
talked at intervals. Arrived at Ludgate Hill she alight- 
ed, and made her way hastily to the Temple. She 
mounted the long flight of stairs which led to Wyncott 
Esden’s chambers there, and, having knocked at the door, 
stood panting, with both hands above her heart. 

Esden opened the door, and confronted her with a 
look of wonder. His left eye was still discolored from 
his attack of neuralgia and toothache, and what with 
that and his strange look of sleeplessness, his face bore 
so unusual an aspect that it frightened her. 

“ You here !” he said, gruffly ; “ what brings you here.” 

She stood panting for a second or two in silence, and 
he made a motion as if he would have closed the door, 
but at that she darted into t*he passage, and seized his 
arm with both hands. 

“ God has given me back my speech again,” she said, 
“ and I have come to warn you.” 

“ To warn me ?” he answered, changing color ever so 
little. “ I suppose I should be grateful for the interest 
that would seem to express, but, upon my soul, I don’t 
know what you’ve got to warn me about,” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


179 


Her wild eyes scared him, and he avoided them. She 
slipped one hand backwards to the door and flung it to. 
The other hand still 'rested on his arm, and shook so 
that it communicated its own strong tremor to him. 

“ Wyncott,” she said, in a dreadful whisper, “ I saw 
you leave the room.” 

He fell back so swiftly that his head came into sharp 
contact with the wall. 

“ The room ! What room ? Are you mad ?” 

“ Miss Pharr’s room,” she answered. “ I saw you 
with the morocco case.” 

' He tried to answer, but his tongue clove to the roof of 
his mouth, and he could find neither thoughts nor words. 
She was clinging to him with both hands again, and her 
awful avowal once made, she let her face fall forward on 
her hands and wept. They stood so for a long time — 
how long neither of them could have told, and at the 
last he made a motion to leave the little hall. She freed 
him at once and followed him into the sitting-room. He 
sank there on to the sofa and sat with averted face, star- , 
ing blindly out of the window, and, except for the girl’s 
sobbing, there was silence. The ruin was the ruin of an 
empire, the stillness the stillness of a desert, and he 
alone survived some mad catastrophe of fate to listen to 
that lonely noise of mourning. Well, it was no affair of 
his. Frankly, he cared nothing. 

She stole towards him step by step, and suddenly fall- 
ing upon her knees, she took the hand which hung 
nervelessly beside him. 

“ Wyncott,” she said, brokenly, “ a gentleman — a man 
of honor — ” 

She could say no more for tears, but the words pierced 
him to the soul. Their sting woke him into life and 
consciousness, and he started wildly up and went pacing 


180 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


to and fro about the room like a madman. She knelt 
awhile where he had left her, and then, rising up sud- 
denly as he had done, confronted* him anew, and clung 
to him with passionate beseechings. 

“ You will send them back — the check as well ! You 
will be honest — you will be honorable ! Oh, my heart, 
my heart ! I loved you so I would have died for you ! 
Nobody knows — nobody shall ever know, but you will 
send them back ! You will be honest ! You never meant 
it, dear; you were tried hard, I know you must have 
been ! The devil tempted you !” 

She held to him and fawned upon him, and smiled 
with a piteous beseeching. Heart-breaking little wom- 
anly w T iles found their way into face and voice and gest- 
ure, and he stood silent before her with bent head, 
dumb with shame and overwhelmed. 

“ I can’t,” he groaned at last, “ I can’t.’’ 

“ You can, dear ! To be honest !” She tried with that 
heart-breaking smile to catch his eye, to lure him to his 
own soul’s safety. 

“ I can’t,” he said again, “ I’m tied — bound hand and 
foot. I’m in the hands of the cursedest villain in the 
world.” 

He broke into execrations so horrible that for a while 
he frightened her, cursing Gale from head to foot and 
from skin to soul. This mad outbreak eased him, and 
when it had died down to a wrathful silence he dropped 
into an arm-chair. She, with recovered courage, was 
stealing once more towards him when he turned upon 
her with a forced calm and spoke. 

“ Sit down. You know part of it, you shall know the 
rest.” 

He told his story, not extenuating anything, but rather 
taking a miserable pleasure in his shame, as in old times 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


181 


those would do who were supposed to be possessed. He 
related dryly the story of his defence of Reuben Gale, 
that scoundrel’s gratitude, the curious souvenir he gave, 
his own indebtedness, J. P.’s importunities, the advent 
of the wealthy friend in London, that tragic missing of 
the friend, his chance passing by of the Wootton Hill 
station, his alighting at Hemsleigh, his discovery that 
the' house was apparently empty, the sudden temptation 
that assailed him, his yielding to it, his enforced visit to 
Gale, his bargain with him, and so on to the second 
theft of the jewels. 

His hearer listened wide-eyed and quite silent save for 
a sob now and then until he came to this. Then with a 
little cry of fear and pity she slipped from the seat and 
knelt beside him, letting her forehead fall upon his knee 
and searching for his hand. He gave it her and went 
on dryly, with no sign of being moved at all, except that 
once or twice there was a harsh sound of ticking in his 
throat, as if some mechanism were obstructed there. 

“ Gale came that night,” he said, “ to this room, and' 
told me that he meant to have the jewels and the reward 
as well, and we are to divide them both between us.” 

“ Ho,” she said, drawing his hand between her own 
face and his knee, and resting her hot, wet cheek upon it. 
The voice was tired and fond, and seemed to express a 
surety that she had saved him, and that the projected 
crime was done with. 

“ I am to meet him,” he went on, “ in a ramshackle 
old house he has the key of, a condemned, deserted 
place, to-morrow night, pretending that I am gtring to 
pay the thief his price and to get back the jewels. I 
am to give the detective the address in a closed enve- 
lope, and if I do not come back in an hour, he is to look 
for me. He will find me tied and gagged, and the 


182 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


money will be gone. I am to have my clothes torn and 
the rest of it, and I am to say that I was set upon by 
three or four villains in the dark, and served in that 
way. Then,” he concluded, with no change of tone, “ if 
it’s twenty years hence, I suppose I am to murder Reu- 
ben Gale.” 

“ You won’t do it, Wyncott,” she said, in the same 
tired and tender tone, still resting her face upon his 
hand. 

“ Yes,” he answered, “ I shall do it, but I shall have 
the blackguard’s life for it.” 

“ You can’t do it with me there, Wyncott,” said the 
girl, “ and I sha’n’t leave you unless you kill me too. I 
came to save you, dear, and I shall do it. God gave me 
back my speech on purpose. I shall have the right to 
love you in my way, and how could I if you were to do 
this thing? Think of it, dear. If you break clear of 
him and tell the truth, you can be happy almost in a 
day. "Why, anybody may be tempted, darling. Bring 
back your self-respect again. A little shame to pay so 
great a shame — an hour to pay a lifetime, Wyncott.” 

In the renewed eagerness of her prayers she had arisen, 
and now bent above him with both arms round his neck, 
vSinly striving to look into his face. 

“ Think of it, Wyncott dear. Even if I didn’t know 
of it. If nobody knew. To be tied for life to such a 
wretch as that. Always to know that he had beaten 
you and frightened you.” 

At that Wyncott Esden rose, slowly and strongly, 
and put her hands away from him. 

“ Thank you, Polly,” he said, “ that will do. I’ll tell 
the truth and shame the devil, and Reuben Gale shall 
find that I’m a dangerous catspaw.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


183 


CHAPTER XVI. 

If Esden’s crime and his repentance alike seemed sud- 
den to himself, there were in each case influences at work 
upon which he had not counted. Ho honest man turns 
rogue upon a sudden, and no honest man grown rogue 
returns to honesty by a simple impulse. One might say 
pretty truly that the two races of honest and dishonest 
do not mix at all, but there is no need to speak with 
scientific accuracy. A thousand shifts and dodges, lies, 
supplenesses, and evasions had prepared him for his fall, 
and had worked in him without his knowledge. And 
since the committal of his crime a thousand shocks of 
shame and pride had acted on his spirit. Perhaps if his 
master and tempter had even been a gentleman, Esden 
would have experienced a repulsion less active and pro- 
found. As it was, his sense of breeding had been more 
tender than his conscience. He might gloze the matter 
over to himself as best he could, and he had really come 
to the conviction that he was no more than a borrower. 
But the loan had been contracted under conditions so 
eccentric that it needed but little to transform it into 
theft. Anybody’s detection of the act would have done 
fee him as much as this, and Gale’s knowledge served as 
well as another’s. In Gale’s eyes he was a thief. He 
had admitted to himself that this insane complexion 
would be put upon his act by any creature who became 
aware of it. It was only he who knew the final purity 


184 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


of his own motives. It was only he who could tell on 
what a basis of honor his abstraction of the jewels was 
devised. It is curious, and will continue curious to the 
end of the chapter, to see how a man not absolutely a 
fool can fool himself; can accept at his own hands a 
paradox so mad that he would feel his intelligence in- 
sulted if another offered it ; can lie to the one creature 
in the world who best knows the truth, and can have the 
lie believed. 

Gale’s knowledge made a thief of him not only theo- 
retically or by the force of an ignorant opinion, but to 
his own apprehension, and however he might have strug- 
gled against it, to his own intent. There are many sorts 
of pride, and Wyncott Esden was not an atom less sen- 
sitive about his own good opinion because he had a load 
of meanly acquired debt, or because he had entrapped a 
feeble friend into a dangerous service. His enforced 
companionship with Gale grated horribly against every 
fibre of his soul and body. It stabbed his personal sense 
of dignity to the heart, and slew it outright a thousand 
times a day. But, as when, according to Milton, the 
steel passed through the vitals of the celestial warriors 
it brought only the mortal anguish, and not the mortal 
release, his self-respect stood there to suffer death, and 
suffered it, and yet was there to suffer it again, and so 
on countless times, throughout the loathsome tragi-com- 
edy of the last three days. 

At first the thought of another’s knowledge had 
seemed the supreme possible punishment, but his part- 
nership with Gale had taught him otherwise. Of two 
evils, says philosophy, choose the less. This is a piece of 
obvious wisdom, but it was perhaps easier to see it and 
to say it even for the first time than it often is to put it 
into practice. It is as unnecessary a piece of vocalized 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


185 


wisdom as any in the world, and as unhelpful. A way- 
faring man, though a fool, would not err therein if he 
could help it, but the plaguy part of the business is to 
discover which of the two evils is the less. To go with- 
out a hundred and sixty pounds or to entrap the poor 
J. P., for instance ? To let J. P. suffer, or to turn bor- 
rower on those eccentric lines? To take his share of 
shame and be quit of Gale by a word of repentance, or 
to plunge deeper into the morass of crime in the hope of 
finding a hiding-place ? The poor mortal, let him be ever 
so erring by nature, will choose what seems the lesser 
evil. Nobody wants to suffer beyond the necessary. 

Flogged backward by shame and conscience, and 
flogged onward by fear and need, Esden had had but 
a sorrowful time of it. Shame and conscience were al- 
ready gaining ground when the girl he had once tried 
to fool came to their aid, and put an end, if not to the 
fight itself, at least to the uncertainty in which its issues 
were involved. 

But there was more gall for him to drink. He must 
make his confession either by letter or by word of 
mouth, and must make it speedily. Then came the 
question — To whom to make it ? To Miss Pharr, di- 
rectly ? Intolerable and impossible. To his aunt ? To 
Edith ? Equally or almost equally intolerable. To El- 
phinstone or Arnold ? Could pride, however humiliated, 
stoop so low ? To picture himself as he was, even at 
his least harmful intent, imaged truly in the mind of 
any one of them, was in itself a punishment which he 
felt to be more than equal to his deserts. The horror 
with which its bare contemplation inspired him seemed 
at times, even when the fight was, virtually over, to drive 
him back to his criminal companionship with Gale. 

No philosopher has yet dug down so deep into human 


186 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


nature as to come upon the ultimate springs of will. It 
happens, far oftener than not, that the final and irrevo- 
cable decision is taken without the actual knowledge of 
the actor ; and it is in those moments when will seems 
dormant that the crucial and pregnant acts of life are 
performed. When Esden had grown so tired of all this 
fighting and buffeting to and fro that he felt incapable 
of action, he did in utter lassitude what he could not do 
by force of resolution. 

Prickett, for his own purposes, had handed to him 
the check which had been intrusted to him by Miss v 
Pharr. Esden had already driven to the bank, and had 
transmuted the strip of paper into solid gold. If he had 
never let fall in his flight that fatal bit of evidence which 
Prickett had found in the railway cutting all might have 
gone so well and smoothly with him. The money had 
actually lain under his hand when Grainger had arrived 
with the news of her participation in his secret. He took 
the gold half mechanically now from the drawer in 
which he had placed it, and laid it in its two neat, firmly 
packed canvas bags upon the table. He opened one of 
them, and counted out a hundred and sixty pounds from 
it. He had fallen from his own esteem mainly for that, 
and would have that at any price, whether he could re- 
pay it or no. He even felt a glow of spurious heroism 
in thinking that he would save his feeble friend at his 
own proper cost. He refastened the bag and made up 
the one hundred and sixty pounds into a compact brown- 
paper parcel, which he sealed and surrounded with a pen- 
cilled note. Then he enfolded the package with a sheet 
of brief-paper, resealed it and addressed it, and for extra 
security tied about it a piece of red tape. Then he put 
the remainder of the gold into a small black handbag, 
and tossing his hat on negligently, went out and down 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


187 . 


the stairs. As he walked towards Fleet Street he met a 
commissionaire, and, intrusting the packet to him, bade 
him carry it to its address and await an answer. He 
gave the man a half-crown for his trouble, and told him 
that the response might be left in the letter-box of his 
chambers. Then he went gloomily on along the street, 
hailed a hansom, and demanded to be driven to Prickett’s 
private lodgings. 

The detective was at home and alone, in high good 
humor, when Esden’s name was taken in to him. 

“ Show the gentleman up, my dear,” said Mr. Prickett 
to his housemaid, smilingly. “ What’s the new game ?” 
he asked himself. “Ain’t there enough dust in your 
eyes already, Joseph?” 

He laid down his pipe, and, advancing to the door of 
the room, stood there in readiness to receive his visitor. 
The visitor strode past him without uncovering, and 
dropped upon the table a black bag, which fell as solidly 
there as if it had contained a pair of dumb-bells. 

“ Shut the door,” he said ; “ I have something to say 
to you. There are eight hundred and forty pounds in 
gold in that bag. I hand it over to your care, and” — 
he clinched his teeth hard for a moment, and rocked to 
and fro ever so little as he stood with his hand grasping 
the back of a chair, and facing Prickett without looking 
at him — “ I give myself in charge.” 

At this, for once the unsurprisable stood surprised, and 
for all his readiness a second or two went by before he 
could find a word. 

“Well, sir,” he answered, when he had gathered his 
wits together, “ that’s the best way out of it, beyond a 
doubt.” 

He was as cool again as if he had expected this 
denoument from the first. 


188 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


“Sit down, Mr. Esden,” he said, quietly, placing a 
chair. Esden obeyed, very much after the fashion of a 
mechanical figure whose springs are set in motion. “ I 
got my orders this afternoon,” Prickett said, seating 
himself on the opposite side of the table, “ and they were 
to the effect that when things came to a head there was 
to be no taking in charge at all.” 

Wyncott lifted his eyes and stared at him. The upper 
and under lids were of a leadenish brown. The rims 
were red with two or three nights of sleepless misery, 
and the eyes themselves had gone almost colorless. 

“ You knew ?” he asked, in a leaden, uninterested way, 
as if it had mattered less to him than to anybody in the 
world. 

“ Why, yes, Mr. Esden,” Prickett answered, with a re- 
spectful commiseration in his voice. I had the case so 
far clear that I went down to Wootton Hill to-day to 
know what I was to do when the pinch came. If you’ll 
excuse me for saying so, sir, I’m very glad and very much 
relieved indeed, for your own sake, as you’ve seen fit to 
take this course. I don’t want to take any liberties, Mr. 
Esden, because of the position you’ve happened to put 
yourself into ; but I’ve always took a respectful and a 
friendly interest in you, if you’ll allow the word to pass, 
since I first set eyes upon you. Feelings can’t be al- 
lowed to interfere with business, sir ; but I was very 
sorry to have to track you down, and I’m very glad that 
the job’s took off my hands. You’re free to go, sir, and 
I shall have great pleasure in reporting what has hap- 
pened. Of course, we shall expect you to serve our turn 
to the utmost of your ability, and not to spoil our game 
with Keuben.” 

“ I am free to go ?” asked Esden, in the same weary 
and uninterested tone. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


189 


“Yes, sir,” Prickett answered. “Such was my in- 
structions.” 

“Who gave them?” Wyncott demanded, staring at 
the table. 

“ Dr. Elphinstone, sir, and Mr. Arnold Esden.” 

Wyncott sat silent for a minute, and, removing his hat, 
passed a handkerchief across his forehead. He played a 
tattoo on the table with his fingers. 

“ What made you follow me ?” he asked, looking down- 
wards. It seemed, in some dim way, worth while to 
know. Hot that he greatly cared, or seemed ever likely 
to care again, for anything. 

“ There was a variety of clews, sir,” Prickett responded, 
as if he thought the other’s curiosity perfectly legitimate 
and natural. “There was the journey down to Hems- 
leigh, and up from Sandy Park. There was your man- 
ner when I showed the tool to you. There was your 
talk along with Gale when I was by. There was your 
going back to him when I w^as gone. There was the ink 
in your chambers as the letter was wrote with. There 
was the mark of the same jemmy on one of the doors 
in your room. There was a variety of things, Mr. 
Esden.” 

“ Ah !” said Wyncott, when he had sat in stony silence 
for a long time after this enumeration ; “ I was a fool.” 

Prickett shook his head in mournful affirmation of 
this statement, but made no verbal answer to it. 

“You’ve brought back a part of the money, it seems, 
Mr. Esden. But the jewels is the main thing. Where 
are they ?” 

“ Gale stole them from my chambers,” Esden answered, 
without looking up. Really, now that the thing was 
done, it seemed to matter scarcely at all. The conflict 
was over, and the shame seemed to have gone with it, 


190 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


and all his cares. There was a very heavy weight upon 
him, though it seemed as if another carried it and he was 
sorry for him — the weight of a dull, blind stupor, that 
was all. 

“ By George,” said Mr. Prickett, 44 that chap’s got his 
father’s own luck. It seems no matter what he does, as 
if there was never any nailing him. We’ve got him now 
on toast, and he gets off it, and walks about scot - free 
with his hands in his pockets as if nothing had happened.” 

“ They let him go also ?” Esden said. 44 To save my 
reputation, I suppose?” 

“ I suppose so, sir.” 

44 Well, they count without me. I shall give Gale in 
charge myself, so soon as I leave this place.” 

44 Well, you know, Mr. Esden,” said Prickett, 44 I’ve 
got my instructions to act on, and I’m going to act on 
them. They are to keep this dark, and dark it’s going 
to be kept. I don’t say as the ladies and gentlemen in- 
terested ain’t keeping it dark in part for your sake, but 
they’re doing it a good deal for their own.” 

44 Do you mean to tell me,” asked Esden, lifting his 
eyes to Prickett’s face with a new and deadly light in 
them, 44 that Gale is to go free?” 

44 What’s to be done, sir,” Prickett answered. 44 Which- * 
ever way it goes you and him has got to travel together. 
Suppose you was to be allowed to slip and Gale was col- 
lared. How much better would that make it for the 
ladies and gentlemen as is left behind ?” 

Wyncott was not thinking of the ladies and gentlemen 
who were left behind. It did not even occur to him to 
remember that he might have thought somewhat too 
little of their interest all along. At bottom, whatever 
courage he continued to summon was hysteric enough, 
but on the surface he looked doggedly resolved. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


191 


“ Whatever happens,” he said, with a savage concen- 
tration, “ Gale will not go free.” 

“ I don’t see,” Prickett answered, “ but what he’s got to. 
You and him is tied too close together, Mr. Esden. I don’t 
suppose as you are for cutting your own nose olf to spite 
your face, and that is what it would have to come to if you 
went for Gale. Between you and me,” Prickett added, 
“ you can’t want him much worse than I do. Y ou took him 
out of my hands only a day or so ago, so to speak, and I’ve 
been watching him this five years. If he’d have got 
through all right with this job, and come safe through with 
it, he’d never ha’ done anything more on this side of the 
water, whatever he might have done in the United States 
of America. But now that this job’s dropped through, 
he’ll be at it again to a certainty. A nibble like this will 
only make him hungry, and even them as wishes him the 
worst can afford to wait for the next move he makes.” 

“ What do you mean,” asked Esden, “ by what he might 
do in the United States ?” 

“ Why,” Prickett answered, “ naturally, he’s going 
there. Or, at least, he means to. He’s got his ticket 
ready, and he’s got a ticket for a pal, a cutter of precious 
stones — what do you call him? — a lapidary. He’s off 
by Saturday’s boat, if he gets the chance. Only you see 
he won’t, just as it happens to happen.” 

“The infernal villain!” said Esden, forgetting even 
his own shame in his wrath at this discovery. “ He gave 
me a rendezvous for to-morrow night, when he was to 
take half the money for the reward.” 

“ Ah !” said Prickett, with a momentary smile, “ that 
was the game, w 7 as it? I thought it might be, and I 
suppose the understanding was as he was to bring half 
the profit of the stones when they were cut ? Beally 
now, upon my word, Mr. Esden — ” Prickett’s pity for 


192 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


his companion’s simplicity was hardly to be expressed 
in words. “ Lord, Lord ! To think as you should ha’ 
been took in by that for a moment. Upon my soul and 
honor now, there really seems to be no end to it.” 

He threw himself back in his chair, and seemed to sur- 
vey human stupidity at large. He shook his head at it 
reproachfully, and then nodded at it in resigned despair. 

“ I suppose, sir,” he continued, with a gentle mourn- 
fulness, “ there was some kind of fake got up for a sham 
struggle ?” Wyncott cast a single glance at him, and said 
nothing. “ Ah !” said Prickett in the same tone, accept- 
ing the glance as an affirmative, “ I thought so. And 
you was to be found tied up, and all that sort of thing — 
gagged with your own handkerchief most likely. Dear 
me! Well, wed.” 

“ Do you think,” Esden demanded, fiercely, “ that I am 
going to let the beast who tried to fool me in that de- 
grading way get off without a scratch ?” 

“ It’s galling, sir,” Prickett admitted. “ Ho doubt it’s 
very galling. But I don’t see what you are going to do, 
all the same.” 

“ If they refuse to prosecute him,” said Esden, darkly, 
“ I’ll do for him what he did for the butler. I’ll put a 
bullet into him.” 

“ Hot you,” said Prickett, with a good-tempered allow- 
ance, tinctured by a little scorn. “ You think so now, 
and I won’t say but what it’s natural. But that’s no 
more your lay, Mr. Esden, than it’s mine.” He dismissed 
the theme at once. “You might tell me where that 
rendezvous was to have been held. It’s some retired 
and quiet spot, of course, and I want to take him quiet 
if I can, and have no rumpus.” 

“You may take him how and where you like,” said 
Esden, bitterly. “ It will make no difference to me.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


193 


He described the place in which the shameful farce 
Prickett had defined was to have been played. Midway 
between the western end of Holborn and Piccadilly Cir- 
cus stood a group of houses already half demolished to 
make space for the Shaftesbury Avenue. A friend of 
Gale’s had bought all the locks, keys, and door-handles 
in the block, and Gale had free access to the deserted 
buildings, and could employ it without fear of being sus- 
pected. Esden indicated the house and the chamber in 
which the meeting had been arranged to take place, and 
surrendered the key which was to have secured his own 
admission. 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Prickett, pocketing the key. 
He had hardly suffered himself to depart for a moment 
from the respectful attitude he would have preserved in 
Mr. Wyncott Esden’ s presence if the interview had hap- 
pened before a stain had fallen upon the social superior’s 
reputation. “If you happen to have anything in the 
way of a private seal about you, sir,” he said, “we’ll 
fasten up this little handbag, and I’ll take it down to 
Wootton Hill at once.” 

Esden detached a seal from his watch-chain, and threw 
it on the table, and Prickett, having rung the bell, called 
for a candle, hunted up a piece of sealing-wax from a 
drawer of odds-and-ends, and sealed the bag with great 
particularity. 

“ You can’t do any harm except to yourself and your 
friends by meddling,” he said then. “ But I hope you 
won’t try to interfere with Gale. It’ll make no differ- 
ence to my game if you do. He’ll never try to leave the 
country without having the stolen property about him, 
and I’ve got him there.” He laid his thumb upon the 
table, and held it strongly down, with his eye fixed on 
Esden’s. “ I’ve got him there at any moment. So what 
13 


194 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


I say to you, Mr. Esden, I say for your own good. You’ve 
got off lucky, and that’s as true as the four gospels. 
Don’t you spoil your fortune, and don’t you take this 
too much to heart. Lord love you, Mr. Esden! you 
ain’t the only gentleman in the world as ever made a 
fool of himself, nor you won’t be the only one as done 
well after it. Bless your little heart alive,, I could tell 
you things about a lot of people. You take Lord John 
Bussell’s tip, Mr. Esden. You rest and be thankful.” 

With that Mr. Prickett rose, took his glossy hat from 
a peg behind the door, and brushed it with scrupulous 
care. He drew on his gloves with a painstaking exact- 
ness and nicety, and, taking up the bag, stood ready to 
depart. 

“I suppose I have a right to defend myself,” said 
Esden, with a hang-dog self-despite. His emotions had 
begun to wake again, but they were over-tired, and 
neither his shame nor his scorn were very painful to 
him. “ You’d better tell them the whole truth if you 
tell them at all. Gale gave me that tool as a souvenir, 
and when the laundress packed my things it got sent 
down to Wootton Hill by accident. I passed Wootton 
Hill station by accident last Monday, and never thought 
of doing what I did until I found the house empty and 
the chance occurred to me in a second. I’ve taken a 
hundred and sixty pounds to meet a bill which a poor 
devil of a friend backed for me three months ago. I 
meant to take that and no more. As soon as I could 
have managed it I should have sent back the thousand 
pounds anonymously. I was willing to pay Gale half 
the reward to keep him quiet, though I should have had 
to live like a pauper for a year to pay back his share of 
it. He wasn’t content with that, but I don’t mean,” 
Wyncott added, with a miserable sense of futility in the 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


195 


words, “to be forced into crime by him or any black- 
guard like him.” 

“ The gentleman who gave you the bill was hard-up, 
I suppose ?” said Prickett. 

“ It would have ruined him,” Esden answered, “ to lose 
the money. He has a sick wife and six children, and I 
think he’s the feeblest fool under heaven this minute.” 

“Well, sir,” said Prickett, “I shall lay all that before 
them, and if I can help it it sha’n’t lose anything in the 
telling.” 

There was little more said between them. They walked 
to Charing Cross together, and parted at the station gates. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

By this time the summer dusk was falling, and Prickett, 
alone in his compartment of the train, abandoned himself 
to a twilight philosophy in keeping with the influences 
of the hour. It is perhaps hardly worth while to say 
that he was not a sentimental man by nature. But in 
spite of his profession he was a friendly creature, and he 
had long felt an admiring liking for Wyncott Esden. In 
the whole world-wide range of intellectual endowment 
there was no sort of capacity or power so fitted to ap- 
peal to Prickett as the kind of cleverness which the young 
barrister displayed. He had had quite a worshipful recog- 
nition for that plausible genius of Esden’s, his agile readi- 
ness, and soft, persuasive brilliance. In his respectful 
way — for he was a high Tory in his heart, and thought 
a prodigious deal of people of good family — he had felt 
almost fatherly towards Esden for this two or three years 
past. They had worked, at the beginning of their ao 


196 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


quaintance, on the same side, and had formed as much 
of a friendship as Inspector Prickett was ever likely to 
claim with a man so far above him in social status. 

It soothed him to remember that if on his former 
journey that afternoon he had carried a message of 
pure distress and pain, he was at least bringing some- 
thing of a sedative for it now. Years of business ex- 
perience had taught him to be as hard as nails about the 
woes of common criminals, and had toughened his sym- 
pathies for suffering friends. But in this case the trouble 
sat upon his own doorstep, and his interest in the affair 
of Wootton Hill was as much personal as professional. 

He had grown to be a familiar figure at the little rural 
station, and his business in Wootton Hill was as well 
known as if the crier had proclaimed him. The station 
master was ingratiating and friendly. Prickett was to 
the full as amiable as he, but was shrouded in impene- 
trable mystery. He shook off the inquiring station 
master easily, and walked straight on to the house. 
There Elphinstone and Arnold were in private consul- 
tation, and Prickett succeeded in reaching them without 
the ladies being made aware of his presence. This was 
all very well for the moment, but it had consequences, 
for some five or six minutes after his entry Janet heard 
of it, and, eager to know if any new complications had 
arisen, ran up-stairs to the doctor’s workroom. 

Both Arnold and the doctor had been terribly put to 
it to maintain such a demeanor at the dinner-table as 
should excite no curiosity or comment. They did their 
loyal best, and failed. Pressed by three excited femi- 
nine curiosities at once, the doctor was forced to admit 
a new development in the history of the affair. He de- 
clined absolutely to say a word beyond this, but was 
badgered into declaring that the jewels would be re- 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


197 


turned on payment of the reward. In face of this the 
ladies could think of no possible reason for gloom, and 
when left to themselves got into a state of vivid excite- 
ment, guessing and wondering left and right. In the 
midst of all this Janet learned that Prickett had arrived, 
had sent in his name to “the gentlemen” specially, and 
was then closeted with them in Dr. Elphinstone’s work- 
room. 

How, when all was said, the jewels belonged to Miss 
Pharr, and the detective for the time being was in Miss 
Pharr’s employ. Janet conceived that she had a full 
right to a share in any mystery which might arise. She 
and she alone paid the piper. Surely she had a right to 
look on at the dancing. And when all allowances have 
been made for exaggeration women are not much less 
curious than men. 

She had only heard the news of Prickett’s arrival a 
minute ago, when she raced up-stairs in some exuber- 
ance of spirit, bent on a half-humorous, half-serious as- 
sertion of her rights. But when she reached the land- 
ing something seemed to lay a warning hand upon her 
— one of those feelings of premonition which, when real- 
ized, dispose even the sanest minds to superstition. What, 
she thought, if Arnold and Elphinstone were hiding some- 
thing from her which it would be terrible to know, and 
would be best left unknown ? An odd fear fell upon her, 
and she hesitated almost at Elphinstone’s door. Within 
the room a voice was murmuring indistinctly, in a level 
narrative tone, and she guessed it to be Prickett’s. 

“Confesses?” Arnold’s voice broke out. “Oh, Wyn- 
cott! Wyncott!” 

At this, without so much as knowing of her own 
impulse, she dashed at the door, seized the handle, and 
stood in presence of the three. Prickett, standing be- 


198 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


hind a bare table in the centre of the room, with the 
light of a lamp full upon his face, looked up at her grave- 
ly, with the expression she had often remarked in him, 
at once impassive and alert. Both his hands rested upon 
a small bag of black leather. Arnold and Elphinstone 
stood on either side of him, and looked at her as she 
stood suddenly arrested in the doorway. 

“ Darling !” cried Arnold, advancing swiftly towards 
her, “ you must not stay here.” 

He had no knowledge of the word he used, nor had she 
for the time. It came back to both of them afterwards ; 
but for the moment there were other things to think of. 

She closed the door behind her, and stood with her 
shoulders leaning against it. 

“ I did not mean — ” she said, stammeringly. “ I did 
not know — ” 

“ Pray, pray leave us,” said Arnold. 

“ There is some reason for this strange agitation,” she 
answered, breathing with difficulty. Her limbs were in 
a violent tremor, and she had found it difficult to stand 
upright. “ If I have a right to know it you must tell 
me. If I have no right to know it, I will go.” 

Elphinstone was aghast, and had dropped back into a 
chair which, fortunately, stood behind him. The shock 
with which he fell into it shook the room. Arnold 
seemed half beside himself, and Prickett alone retained 
his self-possession. 

“You will tell me, sir,” she said, turning upon him. 
“ If it is anything relating to the robbery I have a right 
to know it, and you need not be afraid to tell me.” 

“ Allow me, miss,” said Prickett, advancing and offer- 
ing his arm. She accepted it, and he led her to a chair. 
“ It was the wish of these gentlemen that you should 
not be pained.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


199 

• 

“ I have no doubt that they meant kindly,” she an- 
swered, breathing quickly, and looking round upon them 
with a pale but resolute face. “ Sit down, Mr. Arnold. 
Tell us, sir, if you please ” — she turned again to Prickett 
— “ what you came to tell.” 

Arnold dropped his forehead upon his hands, and sat 
with his face hidden. The doctor shifted his posture 
with the air of a man recovered from a sudden fear and 
grown ready to face it. Prickett returned to his place 
behind the table, and, laying both hands anew upon the 
black bag, leaned forward a little like a lecturer, and 
spoke. 

“ With your permission, miss, and yours, gentlemen, 
this is the history of what has happened.” 

He told the story through with brevity and clearness, 
dwelling on the sudden nature of the temptation which 
had assailed the criminal, the humane nature of the main 
reason which seemed to have pushed him into crime, his 
repentance, and the retribution he had made. Wyncott, x 
holding a brief for another in his own place, could hardly 
have done better, for Prickett had in this case all those 
sentiments which it was the barrister’s art to feign — the 
personal interest, the candor, the genuine pity, and the 
faith in the better side of things. Scotland Yard turned 
counsel for the defence. 

“ He’s dreadful broken down,” said Prickett, “ and I 
shouldn’t wonder if he did himself a mischief. The gen- 
tleman that backed the bill for him is in very low water. 
Six children and a sick wife, and business in the City 
about as bad as it can be. It’s a painful affair all round, 
but it’s a family party, so to speak, and it can be kep’ 
quiet. Dr. Elphinstone and Mr. Arnold Esden, miss, 
were in favor of keeping it dark, and so I suppose are 
you ?” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


200 

• 

Janet was crying by this time, but controlled her tears 
to listen. She stole now and again a sidelong look at 
Arnold, and his shamed and broken attitude struck her 
to the heart. It seemed harder upon him than anybody. 
She could not think angrily or with scorn of Wyncott. 
His fall from honesty horrified her, but she felt it, as so 
many women would have done, in a reflected rather than 
a direct and personal way. It could be nothing less than 
hideous for Arnold, so delicately sensitive to honor, so 
lofty in all his thoughts and hopes and aims, to find one 
who had been like a brother to him turned thief. 

“This, miss,” continued Prickett, lifting his hands 
from the black bag and allowing them to fall again, 
“was handed to me a couple of hours ago by Mr. Wyn- 
cott Esden. Its contents is reckoned to be eight hun- 
dred and forty sovereigns. Mr. Esden sealed the bag at 
my request with his own private seal, as a matter of 
business, and now — as a matter of business, likewise — 
I should be obliged if the seal was looked at.” 

He offered the bag to Arnold, who glanced at it and 
nodded ; then to Elphinstone, who put up his pince-nez 
with a trembling hand, and examined the seals with un- 
necessary closeness to conceal his agitation. 

“ That being right,” said Prickett, “ I may as well 
break these seals and hand you, miss, what belongs to 
you.” 

He suited the action to the word, and, producing the 
two canvas bags, laid them upon the table. 

“Dr. Elphinstone!” cried Janet. “Arnold! Help 
me ! Tell me what I am to do.” 

They arose at this appeal, and approached the table 
indeterminately. One of Arnold’s hands went out tow- 
ards the gold, but drew back hurriedly, as if he feared 
to touch it. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


201 


“He had better go away,” said Janet. “We could 
never bear to look at him again, and he could never bear 
to see us. Arnold, go to him ! Speak to him ! Take 
that horrible money with you, and make him take it and 
go away, and promise never to be heard of any more.” 

“It’s the best way out of it,” Elphinstone said. “ Y e’re 
a good creature, Janet, as I always knew. We’ll just 
arrange that between us later on. I’m not long for this 
world’s sorrow, and I’d meant the half of what I have 
to go to yon misguided idiot. Ye’ll have to bear the 
load of it yourself now, Arnold, such as it is, and we’ll 
spare that much to the puir fool anyway.” 

He waved his hand towards the money on the table, 
and then took to walking the room in a profound de- 
jection. 

“ You will go ?” Janet asked, turning appealingly tow- 
ards Arnold. 

“ Yes,” he answered. “ I thank you with all my heart, 
and I will go. Are you ready, Mr. Prickett ?” 

Prickett, answering by a mere nod, gathered up the 
money, replaced it in the bag, bade Miss Pharr a respect- 
ful good-evening, and followed Arnold from the room. 
The clergyman took up his hat and gloves in the hall, 
and led the way in silence down the drive. 

“ It’s kindly meant, fir,” said Prickett, when they had 
reached the solitude and silence of the road. “ It’s beau- 
tifully meant. But Mr. Wyncott Esden has got his pride 
on edge, sir, so to speak, and I don’t think he’ll take it.” 

“He will have to take it,” Arnold answered, sternly. 

They finished their walk in silence, and, having hung 
about the station without a word until the train came up, 
they travelled in silence up to town, and drove to Wyn- 
cott’s chambers. The self-confessed criminal opened the 
door at Prickett’s knock, and drooped his head at the 


202 


A DANGEROUS CAT SPA W. 


sight of his cousin. He blushed scarlet, and then went 
pale again, and, entering before his visitors, sat down in 
an arm-chair. At a sign from Arnold, Prickett closed 
the door. 

“It was our desire,” said Arnold, “to keep the truth 
you have confessed to from Miss Pharr’s ears, but she has 
surprised our secret. It will rest with us. She sends 
you back this money, and bids you go and trouble us no 
more.” 

“I sha’n’t trouble you any more,” Esden answered. 
“ But I sha’n’t take the money. I am not such a cur as 
that.” 

“ You will take what punishment and humiliation is 
imposed upon you,” said Arnold, in a cold and dread- 
ful scorn. “ You will take this money and go. Listen, 
if you please, and understand. We, whom you have 
shamed beyond any hope of forgetfulness, are not dis- 
posed to accept any further shame at your hands. We 
will not accept the shame of your lingering here. We 
will not accept the shame of your social failure here- 
after, or your poverty in another country. This is not 
offered in any spirit of revenge. We protect ourselves 
against you, that is all. You have given us the right to 
protect ourselves against you, and we will exercise it.” 

“You can give me in charge, if you like,” said Wyn- 
cott. “ I’ve made up my mind to do it for myself.” 

“You are not satisfied,” Arnold asked, “with the 
shame and misery you have brought on us already ?” 

“ Oh,” Wyncott answered, in grim self-hatred, “ I’m 
satisfied, if you are.” He arose and walked into his 
bedroom, and Prickett’s eye followed him watchfully 
and w r arily. There was a moment’s silence and then 
Wyncott’s voice sounded with a loud quaver in the tone 
-“Good-bye!” Then there was a clicking explosion 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


203 


like the noise made by the firing of a percussion-cap, and 
then another and another. 

Prickett dashed into the bedroom, and Arnold fol- 
lowed ; for a moment there was a wild struggle in the 
half-darkness, and then the two tore Wyncott back into 
the light. He was bleeding from a chance scratch upon 
the face, and he held a revolver in his hand. 

“That’s your handiwork!” he cried, wildly, turning 
his desperate face on Prickett. 

“Yes, sir,” said the detective, quietly. “That’s my 
handiwork. I had the powder took out of the car- 
tridges. Now you take it easy. Nobody wants to 
hurt you.” 

Wyncott made one tremendous struggle to free him- 
self, but Prickett tripped him by the heels with light- 
ning swiftness, and but for Arnold’s grip he would have 
fallen headlong. As it was the fall wrenched his arm 
badly, and the intense pain quieted him. 

“Now you sit down there, if you please, sir,” said, 
Prickett, planting him on the sofa. “ Try to move, and 
I’ll find a way to stop you. Upon my word, I am 
ashamed! No more pluck than that? I always took 
you for a thoroughbred. Ain’t you got no respect for 
your own good name ? Ain’t you got no pity for your 
friends ? Why, it’s simply sickening, this is. It’s con- 
temptible. That’s what I call it. If this gentleman 
likes to talk to you he may, but I’m sure I don’t want to 
after such an unmanlike exhibition.” 

He gave Arnold a swift persuasive glance and gesture, 
and passed him with a whisper. 

“ I’ll see to his razors. He’s ripe for anything.” 

With that he slipped into Wyncott’s bedroom, and, 
having lit the gas there, found the razor-case and pock- 
eted it. He made a further search, but, finding nothing 


204 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


which could be put to dangerous uses, went back into 
the sitting-room. Arnold was sitting before his cousin, 
and had taken his lax right hand in his own. Prickett 
nodded to himself approvingly. 

“ He’ll do a lot more on that lay than on the other,” 
he said inwardly. “ Gentlemen, both,” he added aloud, 
“ I’ll just step back into the next room, and have a look 
at the evening.” 

Arnold glanced up at him, but Esden gave no sign. 
The detective winked and nodded encouragement, and 
then withdrew, closing the door behind him. 

“ Take this money now, Wyncott,” said Arnold, when 
they had sat in silence for a time. “ Accept that hu- 
miliation for the sake of those whom you have shamed 
and injured. Go away and make the best of the talents 
God has given you. Try to make atonement for the 
past, and if in time to come you can throw this burden 
from your shoulders, the payment will be accepted with 
pride and joy. But take it now and let that be the first 
sign of a true repentance. You cannot repay us for our 
pain by sinking — you may by swimming.” 

Arnold felt a convulsive grip from the hand he held 
in his own, and responded to it by a firm, strong pressure. 
There were many things he was disposed to speak of, 
and to a younger man, or one more ignorant, he would 
have uttered his mind, in the words his office gave him 
a right to use. But he was certainly none the worse a 
man, and possibly none the poorer as a clergyman, be- 
cause his delicacy kept him silent. 

“ You will go away?” he asked at length, after long, 
silent thinking. “ And try ?” A grip of the hand was 
the sole answer to either question. “ And do what we 
desire ?” There was a pause after this, and the question 
had to be repeated, but in the end it met the same an- 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


205 


swer as the others. “ I have jour word of honor for all 
this?” 

“Yes,” said Wyncott,- in a voice hardly audible. “I 
sha’n’t see you again. Good-bye.” 

“ Good-bye, Wyncott. God help you! God bless 
you !” 

They parted in that fashion, and Arnold, entering the 
bedroom, drew Prickett towards him. 

“Stay with him a little.” The detective nodded. 
“ You’re a good fellow, Prickett. Shake hands. Good- 
night.” 

Whether a clergyman ought to think the better of a 
sinner for attempting suicide may be left for the present 
as an open question. But it is very certain that Wyn- 
cott’s desperate resolution had changed his cousin’s mind 
towards him. At least it showed the depth of his de- 
spair, and despair is so terrible a thing that few men can 
bear to look at it unmoved. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Gale, meanwhile, regarded himself as one of the hap- 
piest men alive. At the thought of what his sentiment 
of gratitude towards Wyncott Esden had done for him 
he was more than half disposed to turn virtuous alto- 
gether. It was simply glorious to have made so rich a 
haul as the result of one good impulse. If he had been 
a common insensible criminal he would have left his de- 
fender unthanked — would have offered him no souvenir, 
and so would have had no clew to guide him to the future 
which now lay in his hands. Gratitude was a moral vir- 
tue, and gratitude had done this for him. He would 


206 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


cultivate the rest of the moral virtues — when he could 
afford them. 

That time was not yet. It never so much as occurred 
to him to sell so valuable a merchandise as his silence 
for less than he could get for it. To commit burglary 
on a man who could not complain of the offence was a 
pleasure he had never before tasted, and to be able 
harmlessly to confess the act was something of a pleas- 
ing novelty also. But Gale had been respectably brought 
up, and had beliefs which might have been called relig- 
ious, if they had ever formed themselves into any sort 
of law for him. He meant to take those beliefs into 
serious consideration when he and Miss Pharr’s jewels 
were safe in Hew York, and he pictured himself in the 
near future as a highly respectable, well-to-do citizen, who 
took a considerable interest in chapel discipline, and was 
very fairly regular in attendance on the means of grace. 

The prospect was alluring, and he took pains to reach 
it. To live in clover, and at the same time to study the 
economics of eternity and doctor his immortal soul — 
what could any man ask better ? 

Among his acquaintance — which, like Mr. Weller’s 
knowledge of London, was extensive and peculiar — was 
a certain bankrupt and hungry rascal who had once 
been in high repute as a lapidary. He was a skilled 
workman, and was respected as an expert in gems, but 
he had broken trust, had passed half a dozen years in 
jail, and could find no employment. Gale had his thumb 
upon this fellow, and the man had for so many years 
been accustomed to fear him that his services might be 
retained with a perfect sense of security. 

Reuben found this personage in even worse circum- 
stances than he had believed him to have fallen to. He 
provided him with a decent suit of clothes, promised 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


207 


him a passage to New York, and undertook to find him 
paying employment on the other side of the Atlantic. 
All these circumstances the watchful James White, who 
had by this time enlisted the services of a familiar from 
Rotherham, reported to Prickett as they transpired. 

Another circumstance reported by the watchful White 
was the purchase by Gale of a belt purse of somewhat 
unusual dimensions, divided into compartments. This 
article had to be made to order, and was to be ready 
without fail on the afternoon of Reuben’s arranged ren- 
dezvous with Wyncott Esden. The last item of informa- 
tion White sent to Prickett on this question was to the 
effect that the belt had been finished, and called for by 
Gale, who had taken it home with him. 

Keen and experienced as he was, Gale was altogether 
out-manoeuvred, and when he set out to the empty house 
with tfie stolen gems bound snugly about his body, and 
a small bag containing the simple necessaries for his 
voyage in his hand, he walked towards one of his cap- 
tors while the other patiently dogged his footsteps. 

It was nearly nine o’clock, and the shades of evening 
had fallen earlier than usual, for the sky was dense with 
cloud. An hour earlier a coppery tinge had been re- 
flected upon the faces of all wayfarers from the threat- 
ening sky. Now the glow had faded, and the clouds 
hung dark and seemed to touch the house-tops. The 
sparse gas-lamps glimmered here and there, revealing 
old hulks of timber and the raw ends of houses from 
which their companions of many years had been newly 
rent away. Parts of the road were dangerous with open 
foundations, or difficult with mounds of building refuse, 
loose piles of brick and slate and rafters. Gale knew 
his way, and steered a steady course. The spy, wary 
and noiseless, followed in his rear. 


208 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


The two were midway through the wilderness of 
wrecked houses when the threatened storm first broke. 
One or two heavy drops had given warning, when the 
whole sky opened into flame, and the thunder crashed 
with awful suddenness and nearness. The wind rose at 
once as if it had been held in a leash and set free at this 
loud signal, and the rain came down in a sheet. Gale 
bent his head and ran, and the watcher followed heed- 
less of his footsteps now that their noise was drowned 
by the roaring wind and rain. 

The burglar made for a house which stood far back 
across a waste of rubbish heaps, and, pushing open the 
door, stood for a moment to wipe the rain from his face. 
Then he mounted the darkened stair deliberately, with 
the sure foot of custom. Half-way up he paused and 
listened. There was a noise behind him. 

“ Hillo !” he said. “ That you ? You’re late.” , 

“ No, Keuben,” answered an unexpected voice above 
him. “ We’re full in time.” 

A ray of light from a dark lantern flashed suddenly 
in his face and for the second half blinded him. The 
following footstep mounted swiftly. The trapped vil- 
lain thrust his hand into the pocket of the light dust- 
coat he wore, clutched a revolver there, and, without 
waiting to withdraw it, fired through the cloth in the 
direction of the light above him. Then he turned, and, 
seeing full in the line of light a grim visage straining 
swiftly up at him out of the lower dark, he fired again. 

“ Look out, Jim !” roared Prickett from above, and at 
the same instant he leaped from the landing, lighting 
full on Gale and falling with him. The thunder broke 
again at that very second of time, but a third shot from 
the revolver was audible even then. The thunder rolled 
away and there was a dead silence. 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


209 


“ Anybody hurt ?” said Prickett, picking himself up 
with difficulty from the landing. 

“ Pm in two or three pieces somehow,” White respond- 
ed, “ but the main part’s here seemin’ly. Upsey-daisy, 
governor ! You’ve knocked him silent, master !” 

“ Keep a hand on him,” said Prickett. “ He’s as wily 
as Satan and as strong as a lion. I dropped the glim 
before I jumped. I’ll get up-stairs for it, and we’ll have 
a look at him. Jim, I’m bio wed if I ain’t broke my 
arm. If you’ve got to hit that chap while I’m gone 
you hit him hard, my lad, and say I told you.” 

“ He won’t want no hitting,” White answered, as his 
superior crawled up the stairs. “ Gaffer !” he cried, in a 
changed voice, “ I can’t so much as feel him breathe.” 

“ Look out for him if he’s foxing,” Prickett called 
back. “ Here’s this blessed lantern standing straight on 
end, and blazing away as if it knowed that it was want- 
ed. That’s a bit o’ luck.” 

He came down the stairs groaning and limping, and 
generally exaggerating his own mischances with a view 
to the temptation of the prisoner in case he should be 
shamming. 

“ Better get the darbies on him while he’s quiet, James. 
We shall have to do a bit o’ searching, and it’ll be all 
the easier if he comes to again.” 

He flashed the light upon Gale’s face, and with a quick 
cry knelt beside him. The burglar lay full length with 
one arm crumpled up behind him. 

“He’s paid all this time,” said Prickett, solemnly. 
“ He’s as dead as a door-nail. I jumped the very second 
he fired that last shot. I must ha’ turned his hand and 
the ball’s gone into him. Look here !” 

The morning papers brought a new and dreadful fear 
U 


210 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


to the three guests at Wootton Hill. Janet rose from 
the breakfast-table with a cry, and Mrs. Wyncott and 
Edith hurried wildly after her as she ran from the room. 
She stood in the hall like a statue of misery, with the 
journal she had been reading clutched convulsively in 
both hands. 

“ There is blood upon them,” she cried. “ The man — 
one of the men — is killed.” 

They brought her back to the room and tried to soothe 
her, but they knew nothing of her main fear. Elphin- 
stone and Arnold alike understood it, when they in turn 
came to read the article which had so terrified and 
shocked her. 

It was headed “ Desperate and Fatal Encounter with 
a Burglar,” and related the manner of the death of Beu- 
ben Gale, and the discovery upon his body of the jewels 
which had been stolen from Miss Pharr. Arnold and 
the doctor held a hasty consultation on it, and the young 
clergyman rushed up to town at once to consult Prickett. 
That worthy personage was in bed with a broken arm, 
and was ordered to keep quiet for a day or two on guard 
against feverish symptoms. 

“ You needn’t be alarmed, sir,” he said, when Arnold 
explained his errand. “ Mr. Wyncott Esden’s name 
doesn’t come into this any more than yours does. There’ll 
be an inquest, and I shall have to tell what happened at 
the time, but I sha’n’t have to go outside it. I went 
to meet Gale ‘ from information received.’ That’s the 
form, and the coroner won’t try to get behind it. If 
my chiefs ask me anything more about it I shall tell ’em 
again what I said last night. ‘ There were two in it,’ 
says I, 6 but the other was a new hand, and he got con- 
science-struck, and came to me and split.’ You needn’t 
have any fear at all ; Mr. Wyncott Esden’s name won’t 
show.” 


A DANGEROUS CATSPAW. 


• 211 


In the event it proved so. Wyncott Esden went out 
to New South Wales, and practised at the bar. A year 
later Mary Grainger followed him, and they two were 
married. There are not many wives who have so ter- 
rible a knowledge of their husbands, but she uses hers 
as Wyncott uses his own knowledge of the past. 

Speaking for myself, in spite of my knowledge of the 
whole stor}q I am not sure that I would not sooner trust 
Wyncott Esden at this hour than many men who have 
led fairly blameless lives. It does not happen to all of 
us to stand by as spectators of the earthquake which 
rives the soul, and to look into the awful abyss that 
opens there. He who has looked- once, and has been 
mercifully saved from falling, desires to look no more. 
Happy they who have no need to be shaken over that 
appalling gulf. And happy likewise they who, having 
need of the terror, look once into its depths, and are set 
back on sound land again with wholesome lifelong fear 
implanted in their hearts. 


THE END. 





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20 


10 


15 

4to, Paper 

15 

,12mo, Paper 

30 

..16mo, Cloth 

1 00 


25 


20 

.12mo, Paper 

25 


50 


50 


50 


15 


35 


25 


15 


15 


35 


20 


20 

16mo, Paper 

25 

Illustrated. 



ELIOT’S (George) Works. Library Edition. 12 vols. 

12mo, Cloth, per vol. 

Popular Edition. 12 vols. Illustrated 12mo, Cloth, per vol. 

Adam Bede. — Daniel Deronda, 2 vols. — Essays and Leaves from 
a Note-Book. — Felix Holt, the Radical. — Middlemarch, 2 vols. 
— Romola. — Scenes of Clerical Life, and Silas Marner. — The 
Mill on the Floss. — Poems : with Brother Jacob and The Lifted 
Veil. 

Fireside Edition. Containing the above in 6 vols. ( Sold only in 

Sets.) 12 mo, Cloth 

Adam Bede. Illustrated 4to, Paper 

Amos Barton 32mo, Paper 

Brother Jacob. — The Lifted Veil 32mo, Paper 

Daniel Deronda 8vo, Paper 

Felix Holt, the Radical 8vo, Paper 

Impressions of Theophrastus Such 4to, Paper 

Janet’s Repentance * 32mo, Paper 

Middlemarch 8vo, Paper 

Mr. Gilfil’s Love Story 32mo, Paper 

Romola. Illustrated 8vo, Paper 

Scenes of Clerical Life * 8vo, Paper 

Silas Marner 12mo, Paper 

FAR JEON’S An Island Pearl. Illustrated 8vo, Paper 

At the Sign of the Silver Flagon 8vo, Paper 


25 

75 


6 Harper <£* Brothers ’ Popular Novels. 


THICK 

FARJEON’S Aunt Parker 4to, Paper $ 20 

Blade-o’-Grass. Illustrated 8vo, Paper 30 

Bread-and-Cheese and Kisses. Illustrated 8vo, Paper 35 

Golden Grain. Illustrated 8vo, Paper 35 

Great Porter Square 4 to, Paper 20 

Jessie Trim 8vo, Paper 35 

Joshua Marvel 8vo, Paper 40 

Love’s Harvest 4to, Paper 20 

Love’s Victory 8vo, Paper 20 

Miser Farebrother. Illustrated 4to, Paper 25 

Self-Doomed 1 2mo, Paper 26 

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FENN’S (Geo. M.) Devon Boys. Illustrated 4to, Paper 25 

Ship Ahoy ! 8vo, Paper 36 

The Chaplain’s Craze 12mo, Paper 25 

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Only a Coral Girl 8vo, Paper 30 

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Moorland Cottage 18mo, Cloth 75 

My Lady Ludlow 8vo, Paper 20 

Right at Last, &c 12mo, Cloth 1 60 

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Wives and Daughters. Illustrated 8vo, Paper 60 

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Reata 4to, Paper 20 

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By Mead and Stream 4to, Paper 20 

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For Lack of Gold 8vo, Paper 35 

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In Honor Bound 4to, Paper 35 

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HAGGARD’S (H. Rider) Allan Quatermain. IlPd...i..l6mo, Half Cloth 75 

Paper 25 


Harper & Brothers' Popular Novels. 


7 


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Jess 16mo, Half Cloth, 75 cents; 4to, Paper 15 

King Solomon’s Mines. ...16mo, Half Cloth, 75 cents ; 4to, Paper 20 

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Half Cloth 75 


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8 


Harper <£• Brothers ’ Popular Novels. 


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Off the Roll 8vo, Paper 50 

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LINSKILL’S (M.) Between Heather and Sea 4to, Paper 20 

In Exchange for a Soul 4to, Paper 20 

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Harper & Brothers' Popular Novels. 9 


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Us 12mo, Paper 25 

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A Noble Life 12mo, Cloth 90 

Avillion, and Other Tales 8vo, Paper 60 

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10 


Harper <k Brothers’ Popular Novels. 


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12mo, Cloth, 90 cents ; 4 to, Paper 15 

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Nothing New 8vo, Paper 30 

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12 mo, Paper 15 

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Red Riding-Hood . 4to, Paper 20 

Time Shall Try 4to, Paper 15 

O’HANLON’S (Alice) A Costly Heritage 4to, Paper . 20 

Horace McLean 4to, Paper 15 

No Proof 4to, Paper 20 

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A Son of the Soil 8vo, Paper 60 

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Harper & Brothers ’ Popular Novels. 11 , 


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Sir Tom 4to, Paper 20 

Squire Arden 8vo, Paper 50 

The Curate in Charge 8vo, Paper 20 

The Fugitives * ,.4to, Paper 10 

The Greatest Heiress in England 4to, Paper 10 

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ONE THAT WINS 4to, Paper 20 

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A Confidential Agent 4to, Paper 15 

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A Woman’s Vengeance *..8vo, Paper 35 

At Her Mercy 8vo, Pp-per 30 

Bred in the Bone 8vo, Paper 40 

By Proxy 8vo, Paper 35 

Carlyon’s Year 8vo, Paper 25 

For Cash Only 4to, Paper 20 

Found Dead . 8vo, Paper 25 

From Exile . 4to, Paper 15 

Glow-worm Tales... 4to, Paper 20 

Gwendoline’s Harvest 8vo, Paper 25 

Halves 8 vo, Paper 30 

Heir of the Ages. Illustrated 4to, Paper 25 

High Spirits 4to, Paper 15 

In Peril and Privation. Illustrated 12mo, Paper 25 

Kit. Illustrated 4to, Paper 20 


I 


12 Harper & Brothers' Popular Hovels. 


PAYN’S (James) Less Black than We’re Painted 8vo, 

Murphy’s Master 8vo, 

One of the Family 8vo, 

The Best of Husbands 8vo, 

The Canon’s Ward. Illustrated 4to, 

The Luck of the Darrells 12mo, 

The Mystery of Mirbridge. IU’d 8vo, 

* The Talk of the Town 4to, 

Thicker than Water 16mo, Cloth, $1 00; 4to, 

Under One Roof 4to, 

Walter’s Word 

What He Cost H$ r 

Won — Not Wooed 

POWER’S (Cecil) Babylon 

Philistia 

PYLE’S (Howard) The Rose of Paradise. Illustrated 
READE’S (Charles) Novels : Household Edition. 


A Simpleton and Wandering Heir. 
A Terrible Temptation. 

A Woman-Hater. 

Foul Play. 

Good Stories. 

Griffith Gaunt. 

Hard Cash. 


PRIOR 

Paper $ 35 
Paper 20 
Paper 25 
Paper 25 
Paper 25 
Paper 25 
Paper 50 
Paper 20 
Paper 20 
Paper 15 
8vo, Paper 60 

8vo, Paper 40 

8vo, Paper 30 

4to, Paper 20 

4to, Paper 20 

..Post 8vo 1 25 
Ill’d. ...12mo, Cloth, 

per vol. 1 00 
It is Never Too Late to Mend. 

Love me Little, Love me Long. 

Peg Woffington, Christie John- 
stone, &c. . 

Put Yourself in His Place. 

The Cloister and the Hearth. 

White Lies. 


Complete Sets (14 vols) 12 

Half Calf 36 
14 vols. in 7. 7 

A Hero and a Martyr 8vo, Paper 

A Perilous Secret 12mo, Cloth, 75 cents; 4to, Paper, 20 cents; 

12mo, Paper 

A Simpleton 8vo, Paper 

A Terrible Temptation. Illustrated 8vo, Paper 

A Woman-Hater. Ill’d 8vo, Paper, 30 cents; 12mo, Paper 

Foul Play 8vo, Paper 

Good Stories of Man and Other Animals. Illustrated... 4to, Paper 

Illustrated 12mo, Paper 

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Jack of all Trades 16mo, Paper 

Love Me Little, Love Me Long 8vo, Paper 

Peg Woffington, &c 8vo, Paper 

Put Yourself in His Place. Illustrated 8vo, Paper 

Singleheart and Doubleface, &c. Illustrated 4to, Paper 

The Cloister and the Hearth 8vo, Paper 

The Coming Man 32mo, Paper 

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White Lies 8vo, Paper 

REID’S (T. Wemyss) Gladys Fane 4to, Paper 

Manleverer’s Millions 12mo, Paper 

RIDDELL’S (Mrs. J. H.) A Life’s Assize 8vo, Paper 

A Struggle for Fame 4to, Paper 


00 

00 

00 

15 

40 

35 

26 

25 

30 

20 

50 

30 

35 

15 

30 

35 

35 

15 

35 

20 

20 

15 

20 

30 

20 

25 

40 

20 


* 


HARPER’S FRANKLIN SQUARE LIBRARY-Continued. 


CENTS. 

530. The Crack of Doom. A Novel. By Win. Minto. 20 

531. The Heir of the Ages. By James Payn. IU’d.. 25 

532. Buried Diamonds. A Novel. By Sarah Tytler. 20 

i 533. A Faire Danrzell. A Novel. By Esme Stuart. . 25 
; 534. Pomegranate Seed. A Novel . 20 

535. Like Lucifer. A Novel. By Denzil Vane 20 

536. Keep mv Secret. A Novel. By G. M. Robins. . 20 

537. The Chiieotes ; or, Two Widows. By L. Keith.. 20 
53S. The One Thing Needful. By Miss Braddon. . . . 20 

539. Two Pinches of Snuff. By William Westall 20 

540. The Court of France. By Lady Jackson 25 

541. St. Briavels. A Novel. By Mary Deane 20 

542. Ottilie. By Vernon Lee. — The Prince of the Hun- 

dred Soups. Edited by Vernon Lee 20 

543. Ancient American Politics. By Hugh J. Hastings 30 

544. Both in the Wrong. By Mrs. J. K. Spender 20 

545. Autobiography of Leigh Hunt 20 

546. Clare of Claresmede. A Novel. By Chas. Gibbon. 20 

547. The Touchstone of Peril. By R. E. Forrest .... 20 
54S. This Man’s Wife. By George Manville Fenn. . . 20 

549. Paston Carew. By E. Lynn Linton 20 

550. Sir James Appleby, Bart. By K. S. Macquoid. . 20 

551. The Children of Gibeon. By Walter Besant 20 

652. King Solomon’s Mines. By H. Rider Haggard. 20 
553. Mohawks. A Novel. By Miss M. IC. Braddon. . 20 


554. The Son of His Father. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

j 555. A Daughter of the People. By G. M. Craik 20 

| 556. A Wilful Young Woman. A Novel 20 

557. The World Went Very Well Then. A Novel. By 

Walter Besant. Profusely Illustrated 25 

; 558. She. By H. Rider Haggard. Profusely Til’d. . . 25 

559. John Westacott. A Novel. By James Baker. . 20 

560. The Girl in the Brown Habit. By Mrs. Kennard. 20 

561. Dorothy Forster. A Novel. By Walter Besant. 20 

562. Devon Boys. By G. M. Fenn. Illustrated 25 

563. A Near Relation*. A Novel. By C. R. Coleridge 20 

564. Elizabeth’s Fortune. A Novel. By Bertha Thomas 20 

565. Gladys Fane. By T. Wemyss Reid 20 

566. The Fawcetts and Garods. By Saiinath 20 


667. Jess. A Novel. By H. Rider Haggard 15 

56S. Springhaven. A Novel. By J. D. Blackmore. . 25 

569. The Merry Men, <fcc. By Robert L. Stevenson. . 15 

570. Kidnapped.— Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. 

Hyde. — Treasure Island. By R. L. Stevenson. 20 


571. The Golden Hope. By W. Clark Russell 20 

572. The Woodlanders. By Thomas Hardy 20 

573. Sabina Zembra. A Novel. By William Black. 20 

574. The Bride of the Nile. By Georg Ebers 25 

575. Knight-Errant. A Novel. By Edna Lyall 20 

576. Charles Reade. A Memoir 25 

577. Amaryllis at the Fair. By Richard Jefferies... 15 

57S. Garrison Gossip. By John Strange Winter 15 

579. Glow-worm Tales. By James Payn 20 

5S0. In the Name of the Tzar. By J. Bel ford Dayne. 15 

581. Next of Kin — Wanted. By Miss M. B. Edwards 20 

582. Marrying and Giving in Marriage. A Novel. 

By Mrs. Moles worth 15 

583. To Call Her Mine. By Walter Besant. Ill’d... 15 

584. Disappeared. By Sarah Tytler 15 

585. AmorVinc.it. A Novel. By Mrs. Herbert Martin 20 

586. A Lost Reputation. A Novel 15 

5S7. A Choice of Chance. By William Dobson 20 

588. 99 Dark Street. A Novel. By F. W. Robinson. 15 
5S9. Present Position of European Politics. By Sir 

Charles W. Dilke 20 

590. “ V. R;” Or, The Adventures of Three Days in 


1S37 (With Two Nights Between). By E. Rose.* 15 

591. Jacobi’s W T ife. A Novel. By Adeline Sergeant 20 

592. The Holy Rose. A Novel. By Waller Besant. . 20 

593. The O’Donnells of Inchfawn. A Novel. By 


L. T. Meade. With One Illustration. 20 

594. Prison Life in Siberia. By Fedor Dostoieffsky. 

Translated by H. Sutherland Edwards 20 

595. In Bad Hands, and Other Stories. By F. W. 

Robinson 2° 


CENTS. 


596. Weeping Ferry. A Novel. By George Halse. . . 20 

597. Essays and Leaves from a Note -Book. By 

George Eliot 20 

59S. More True Than Truthful. A Novel. By Mrs. 

Charles M. Clarke 20 

599. A Book for the Hammock. By W. Clark Russell 20 

600. The Great World. A Novel. By Joseph Hat- 

ton 20 

601. Diane De Breteuille. A Love Story. By Hubert 

E. H. Jerningham 15 

602. Madame’s Granddaughter. A Novel. By Frances 

Mary Peard 15 

603. Paddy at Home (“Chez Paddy"). By Baron E.De 

Mandat-Grancey. Translated by A. P. Morton. 20 

604. An Ugly Duckling. A Novel. By Henry Erroll 20 

605. A Fair Crusader. A Story of To-day. By Will- 

iam West all 20 

606. One that Wins. A Novel. By the Author of 

“ Wbom Nature Leadeth ” 20 

607. The Frozen Pirate. A Novel. By W. Clark 

Russell. Illustrated 25 

608. Friend MacDonald and the Land of the Moun- 

seer. By Max O’Rell 20 

609. Her Two Millions. A Novel. By William 

Westall. Illustrated 25 

610. Mere Suzanne, and Other Stories. By Katha- 

rine S. Macquoid 20 

611. In Exchauge for a Soul. A Novel. By Mary 

Linskill 20 

612. Character. By Samuel Smiles 20 

613. Katharine Regina. A Novel. By Walter Besant 15 

614. Miser Farebrother. A Novel. By B. L.Farjeon. 

Illustrated 25 

615. Thrift. By Samuel Smiles. 20 

616. For the Right. A Novel. By Karl Emil Fran- 

zos. Translated by Julie Sutter. With a Pre- 
face by George Macdonald, LL.D 30 

617. Only a Coral Girl. A Novel. Bv Gertrude Forde 30 

618. Herr Paulus. A Novel. By Walter Besaut 35 

619. The Life of William I., Emperor of Germany 

and King of Prussia. Illustrated 10 

620. Joyce. A Novel. By Mrs. Oliphant 35 

621. Wessex Tales. By Thomas Hardy 35 

622. The Strange Adventures of a House-Boat. A 

Novel. By William Black. Illustrated 50 

623. The Mystery of Mirbridge. A Novel. By James 

Payn. Illustrated 50 

624. The Fatal Three. A Novel. By M. E. Braddon 30 

625. Through the Long Nights. A Novel. By Mrs. 

E. Lynn Linton 25 

626. The Eavesdropper. A Novel. By James Payn 25 

627. The Rebel Rose. A Novel 40 

628. The Mediation of Ralph Hardelot. A Novel. 

By William Minto 30 

629. In Far Lochaber. A Novel. By W T illiam Black 40 

630. The Inner House. A Novel. By Walter Besant 30 

631. Yule-Tide Stories and Pictures 25 

632. A Christmas Rose. A Novel. By R. E. Francillon 30 

633. The Countess Eve. A Novel. By J. H. Short- 

house 25 

634. For Faith and Freedom. A Novel. By Walter 

Besant. Illustrated 50 

635. The Peril of Richard Pardon. A Novel. By 

B. L. Farjeon. Illustrated 30 

636. When a Man’s Single. A Tale of Literary Life. 

By J. M. Barrie 35 

637. The Weaker Vessel. A Novel. By D. Christie 

Murray. Illustrated 50 

638. Toilers of Babylon. A Novel. By B. L. Far- 

jeon 40 

639. A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylin- 

der. Illustrated 50 

640. French Janet. A Novel. By Sarah Tytler 30 

641. A Dangerous Catspaw. A Novel. By*D. Chris- 

tie Murray and Henry Murray 30 


Published by HARPER Sc BROTIkUBjLiS, New York. 

PT Harper & Brothers will send any of the above works by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States 

or Canada , on receipt of the price. 




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